


Remus Lupin's Guide to Successful Courting

by Children_of_the_Shadows



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-26 07:05:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 87,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2642663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Children_of_the_Shadows/pseuds/Children_of_the_Shadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus has lived for twenty five years now. Due to his incapability to emote or feel many complicated things at the same time, he has always maintained a straight face, his facial features sitting at an angle of approximately a hundred and seventy four point two d though he has practiced it many times before in front of the mirror, Remus has truly never smiled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. [hahrt-beet]

Once upon time, there lived a prince. A prince who was neither very rich nor very charming. He did not live in a castle, did not wear lavish clothes; and despite the fact that he'd waited for years, locked alone and dwelling in his own pain and grief, no one ever came to save him.

His name was Remus Lupin and his kingdom was in his head - fantasies of large castles, wands sparkling with magic, and boys with eyes full of mischief. His kingdom was on paper – words swirling with tales that many would praise in magazines but no one would quite understand. His kingdom was in his hand – in the vibrant colours of all the pictures he drew, paint smeared across his cheeks and splattered all over the floors. His kingdom was empty, with only himself as its king.

There was routine in his life of solitude. Every day, Remus would wake up at seven in the morning to brush his teeth and shower for exactly fifteen minutes. He would then dress: pressed black trousers and a white shirt that would be tucked neatly around his waist. Some days, when he felt in the mood, his shirt would be a light blue or beige. Thin black suspenders wound snap around his shoulders and across the expanse of his chest. His socks would rest snugly around his calves and his shoes, shined to perfection would be evenly laced on both sides. His last task would be to neatly comb his light brown hair, parted to the side in a perfectly straight line. He would not pay attention to much else. Not to his skin which seemed as pale and at times, sickly at best. Not to his body which was a bit too thin, but wiry and taut. Never to his eyes that despite the life within his heart, only seemed to mirror despair. Nor to his voice that seemed monotone and awkward from disuse. He would ignore all these and simply head downstairs to the kitchen.

There, he would wait for his maid to serve him his daily breakfast of soldiers and eggs, with a fresh glass of orange juice. On weekends, he had cereal with fresh strawberries from the garden. By exactly eight fifteen, he would exit the kitchen with the remains of his breakfast in a clear plastic packet, to feed to the ducks outside. The pond is his garden was a small one that was never meant for ducks, but Remus had not protested a single day since he'd noticed the tiny little nest in his garden. He would feed them daily, leaving his shoes on the front step of his house just so he could feel the crunch of fresh grass underneath his toes.

It was routine. It was comfortable. It was what Remus Lupin was used to. So it was completely acceptable to be surprised when Remus opened his front door one sunny Monday morning to find an abandoned child at his doorstep. Well, Remus could only assumed the child was abandoned from the many stories he had read over the years. Though, through much knowledgeable experience, Remus knew that abandoned doorstep children also came with their staple wicker baskets and sorrowful note.

 **Abandoned [** _uh_ - **ban** -d _uh_ nd **]: Forsaken or deserted.**

Remus looked at the child curiously. A little boy, though past the age where baskets were a viable option. He was crying profusely, fat tears streaking muddy cheeks. 'Are you abandoned?' Remus thought of asking the most obvious question first. He blinked slightly when the child only cried harder. There was a scrape on the child's knee that was bleeding only slightly, but Remus also knew from much of what he'd read that the smallest of wounds could affect a child greatly. 'Where are you parents?'

The little boy shook his head. 'I don't have any,' he sobbed.

'Oh dear,' Remus worried. The child, it seemed, had been abandoned. 'Did they not like you?'

This seemed to be the worst of questions to ask, though Remus could not fathom why. All he knew was that it made the child cry harder which seemed extremely inconvenient, both for Remus's ears and his sensibilities.

 **Cry [** krahy **]: to utter inarticulate sounds, especially of lamentation, grief or suffering, usually with tears.**

It was something he could define but could not understand; could not explain through by a book. A scraped knee hardly seemed lament worthy.

'I don't know how to get home,' the boy hiccupped, wiping his face and smearing more dirt all over his eyes and cheeks. 'We were supposed to go to the museum together, but then I saw a dog that looked like it had three heads. So I wanted to play with it. I'd even named it Fluffy. But Fluffy kept running away, so I tried to catch him. And then I saw strawberries in your garden so I tried to fetch some from under the fence, but I fell.' He looked up pitifully at Remus as he pointed to his knee.

 **Trouble [truhb** - _uh_ l **]:** **to** **disturb** **the** **mental** **calm** **and** **contentment** **of;** **worry; distress;** **agitate.**

Remus knew the minute he gazed into those sparkling green eyes that this boy had trouble following him wherever he went. He thought of the strawberries in his garden and the hours of work he had put on them over the past seven years. He thought of weekend breakfasts without strawberries and decided that perhaps, it would be best to help trouble find his way out of the Lupin premises. 'Where do you live?' Remus asked.

The boy sniffled. 'With Padfoot.'

 **Confused** [k _uh_ n- **fyoozd** ] **:** **to be** **perplexed** **or** **bewildered.**

'What is a Padfoot?'

The boy looked at him as if Remus was an idiot for asking such an obvious question. 'Padfoot is Padfoot. He has long black hair, and big white teeth, and a really long nose, and likes to eat things off my plate.'

'Oh.'

Padfoot sounded like a dog. Remus had always wanted a dog for himself but never had the courage to get one. He would very much like to meet Padfoot, the dog. Especially if he is brilliant enough to rear a child all by himself. It is not unheard of at all; Remus has read many such articles in the newspapers where dogs, pigs, and a handful of cows have raised human children, many with severe identity crisis. Unable to see any form of address on the boy's person, Remus came to the logical conclusion that he would first take the boy to the doctor's to be healed and then to the police station. This, he knew, was the protocol for all lost children; unless they were found in a supermarket or in a ditch (usually dead).

The boy had stopped crying now and was looking at him curiously. A child, Remus mused, was an odd creature. It's eyes were too big and cheeks were always flushed bright pink. Their hair was always wild and floppy, and almost every word they spoke was accompanied by copious production of saliva and the inability to pronounce the letter 'r'. There was also the issue of being held. While in theory, this might seem simple, Remus was now faced with the perplexing task of picking this child up. Do you align your hands to the front? How much pressure was too much pressure? Remus continued to angle his hands experimentally, until finally he gave up with a loud sigh and settled for the best course of action. Much like a mother wolf carrying her cub or a human carrying a shopping bag, he lifted the child up by the scruff of his neck, leaving the boy's legs to dangle in the air. By the joyful laughter that it brought on, Remus assumed that this was the most efficient and appropriate method of child transportation.

 **Success** [s _uh_ k- **ses** ] **:the** **attainment** **of** **wealth,** **position,** **honors,** **or** **the** **like.**

The clinic was not a very far walk from Remus's house. It was a route Remus was familiar with from his multiple visits, especially in his earlier, more sickly years. Remus liked it above all the other clinics or hospitals he had ever been to because of its bright sunshine yellow walls, green picture frames across the corridor walls, and purple nurse uniforms. The Director, whom Remus knew well, was rumoured to have an eccentric streak. Even as he went in, many of the staff greeted him with gentle smiles and amiable nods. Some eyed the child in his arms warily but did not say much, simply waving as they passed by.

'Padfoot!'

 **Heartbeat [hahrt** -beet]:  **pulsation** **of** **the** **heart,** **including** **one** **complete** **systole** **and diastole.**

Remus has lived for twenty five years now. Due to his incapability to emote or feel many complicated things at the same time, he has always maintained a heart rate of sixty eight times per minute and a running heart rate of seventy one times per minute. And though he has read about it many times, he has never experienced the often described feeling of his heart pushing against his ribcage or indeed, skipping any beats.

Until today.

Today, on a sunny Monday morning; April 12th 1985, Remus finally understood the term, 'when the heart skips a beat'.

The cause had been a man.

One with long black hair, big white teeth, and an extraordinarily long nose.

'Harry, what are you doing here? Who is this?' The man cried out, his very light grey eyes widening in shock as he dropped the file he was carrying to the floor.

Harry, which seemed to be the little boy's name, shrugged just as Remus put him down. 'I don't know,' he replied as a matter of fact-ly.

 _Padfoot_  (an odd name for a grown man) rushed towards them with a groan. 'Harry, what have I told you about strangers? Honestly, I don't know what I'm going to do with you.'

'But I was lost, Padfoot,' Harry pouted and then suddenly, grabbed Remus's right hand in his. Had Remus been able to articulate between the infuriating skipping of his heart, he would have questioned this gesture. The child was not falling; hence, he saw no reason for this business of hand holding. It was utterly perplexing and Remus stared at the small fingers wrapped around his own mutely. 'This mister here helped me find you.'

Remus has never been called a mister before.

'I am so sorry if Harry's been of any inconvenience to you,' Padfoot apologised, holding out both his arms and wrapping them around the child's waist loosely, before picking him up to chest level. Another method of child carrying, Remus supposed. 'I don't know how he gets into so much trouble, even in playgroup. I'll probably have to call the nursery and inform them before they lose their heads.' One of Padfoot's hand reached for Remus's and squeezed tightly. While this was just as perplexing as Harry's gesture, it felt oddly pleasant, and Remus found himself staring mutely yet again at their conjoint hands. 'Thank you very much. I'm not sure how I can repay you-'

'Marry me.'

 **Marry [mar-** ee **]: to take as an intimate life partner by formal exchange of promises in a manner of a traditional ceremony.**

Padfoot spluttered, though not unattractively; his eyes bugging out of his socket and his jaw hanging open. 'I'm sorry? What?'

Remus wondered if he'd perhaps worded it wrong. As if a light bulb had gone off in his head, he exclaimed, 'I see, you require me to approach your parents first,' he offered knowledgeably. This, however, did not bring the desired result from Padfoot. Remus frowned yet again, trying to bring forth the plethora of knowledge he had gathered from various books over the years. While Remus was not a man to boast, he did like to think he was very well read. 'I see, you require a courting ritual.' Yes, Remus thought, that would be the right course of things.

Sirius still seemed to have been rendered so speechless that he remained stock still, despite the constant attention seeking tugging and whining that Harry was indulging in.

Remus decided to use a more commercially friendly and simpler term for his pursuit of affection, 'Mr. Padfoot, I would like to ask you out for a date.'

**Date [deyt]:** **An engagement to go out socially with another person, often out of romantic interest.**


	2. [hap-ee-nis]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus has lived for twenty five years now. Due to his incapability to emote or feel many complicated things at the same time, he has always maintained a straight face, his facial features sitting at an angle of approximately a hundred and seventy four point two d though he has practiced it many times before in front of the mirror, Remus has truly never smiled.

Once upon a time, there was a child; a child with a simple dream of conquering the world. He would run through forests, his bare feet caked with mud and grey eyes shining with mischief. More often than not, he would be running to not get caught for yet another bit of mischief he and his friend had caused. His hands would push away opposing tree branches and his laughter would echo loudly as if coming from the skies itself. His breath would come out in short pants, but he would override it for the feel of wind in his hair. He was a child not born into freedom, but one who had snatched it for himself.

He was strong.

He was invincible.

He was the King of the world.

He was shot down by reality and forced to leave his childhood behind.

* * *

'Are you waiting for Padfoot also?'

Remus watched Harry's legs move back and forth, the right moving in an opposing direction to the left and the heel of each foot hitting the back of the waiting chair in rhythmic intervals of  _thak thak thak thak._

 **pen·du·lum** [ **pen** -j _uh_ -l _uh_ m,  **pen** -d _uh_ -]: **a body suspended from a fixed point as to move to and fro by the action of gravity and acquired momentum.**

'I'm waiting for Padfoot also…' Harry continued, his face falling to a sad expression. 'Padfoot asks me to sit and wait here every day after school.'

Remus looked curiously at the boy. He had been wondering since the moment he arrived why Harry had not yet changed his clothes from the other day, before realising that the yellow shirt was actually a school uniform. After all, it had been two whole days since Remus had first met him and brought him to the clinic. Two very confusing days of Remus analysing the most baffling conversation he had ever had with a person. Padfoot had not really said anything to Remus after his rather generous offer to court the other man before marrying him. In fact, Padfoot had simply shook his head, muttered that this was  _just_  not his day, and walked away. It had left Remus extremely perplexed.

 **Per·plex** [per- **pleks** ]:  **to cause puzzlement or bewilderment over what is not understood or certain; to confuse mentally.**

Thus, Remus came to the conclusion that Sirius, like many others of the human kind, would require repetitive perusal for it to be effective. Which brought Remus to the Hogwarts Clinic; sitting on a wonderfully green chair that looked quite lovely with the clinic's yellow walls but not so much with the nurses' purple uniforms. He had come mostly unprepared, as he had realised that in cases such as this, a valiant speech was unnecessary. He, Remus decided, would as the term explains,  _wing it._

 **Impromptu** [im- **promp** -too, -tyoo]:  **made or done without previous preparation** **.**

'Do you not like waiting?' Remus asked curiously, watching Harry's face make a little downturn.

'I don't like it at all,' he replied with much passion, shaking his head and sending his already messy hair in a complete state of disarray.

'Are the seats not comfortable?' Remus shifted a little, testing the cushions underneath for himself. They seemed quite satisfactory, though slightly on the thin side of things. Remus imagined that long periods of sitting would perhaps not be favourable on the lumbar or the buttocks.

'It's lonely,' Harry whispered sadly.

'Oh.' Remus nodded understandingly. Lonely was a feeling he could comprehend. Lonely was a feeling he knew very well.

 **Lonely** [ **lohn** -lee]:  **affected with, characterised by, or causing a depressing feeling of being alone; lonesome.**

'Padfoot always asks me to behave and sit quietly; and everyone here likes to pinch my cheeks. Especially that lady over there.' Harry pointed to the woman sitting at the reception. She was chewing quite vigorously on a piece of yellow gum while talking to her friend on the telephone. 'I have a girl in my class, Hermione, who likes to draw on her own face with lots of crayons. That lady looks just like her.' Remus could not deny that the woman did look quite vigorously painted on with make-up. 'I don't like it here one bit!' He said vehemently. 'I'd rather play or watch the telly at home. Do you know, they show all the good programs at this time and all my friends in school are allowed to watch it, but Padfoot makes me stay here instead. It's stupid.' To express the stupidity of the idea, he kicked his chair with the heel of his foot and puffed up his face in anger. Remus thought he looked a bit like a pig with his cheeks growing steadily pink and round.

Remus was about to say so, when the rather robust receptionist woman came up to them. Just as Harry had complained, she bent down to pull the child's cheeks and kiss them enough to leave smears. She then turned to Remus, her bosoms caught up in momentum and a seemingly endless motion of jiggles.

 **Humungous [** hyoo **-muhng-** g _uh_ s _or, often_ , yoo **-]: huge and monstrous, with stress pattern of tremendous.**

He hoped she wouldn't pull his cheeks also.

'Mr. Lupin, Dr. Black will see you now.'

 **Racist**  [ **rey** -sist]:  **a person who believes in racism, the doctrine that a certain human race is superior to any or all others.**

Remus had heard of them but had never experienced one first hand. He had also been advised multiple times by both his doctor and various newspaper articles that racism must not be tolerated. Racism must be spoken against. Hence, Remus informed her quite adamantly: 'You are very rude, Madam. Mr. Padfoot has only had a slightly unhealthy exposure to the sun. There is no reason to mock him or any man with a more substantial production of melanin than yourself.' He stood up, because he knew that in situations where stands were to be made, men must also stand. This would create the illusion of anger and disapproval. 'If you will excuse me now, Ms.  _White._ '

Once his stand was made, Remus strode past the rather baffled receptionist and walked in through the door to his left. Padfoot was seated at his desk; busily filing the documents of what Remus assumed was his last patient. His office was much like Remus's last doctor's office – very white with off instruments arranged categorically across workspaces. There were also unsightly pictures of various body parts and possible diseases adorning the walls and a poster asking all parents to have their children vaccinated. Padfoot's desk was not as organised as the rest of his office and seemed to be suffering from a tornado of files; an assortment of pens, and few drawings that Remus assumed was either done by Harry or were the artistic creations of a very untalented adult. On the very right hand corner of Padfoot's desk was a little name plate that read:  **Sirius Orion _Black_ , General Practitioner.**

 _Oh dear,_ Remus thought.

 **Mistake [** mi- **steyk]: an error in action, calculation, opinion, or judgment caused by poor reasoning, carelessness, or insufficient knowledge. A misunderstanding or misconception.**

Remus hoped the receptionist had not been too heavily offended by his speech. Her rather giving size did not offer him any consolation or guarantee of leaving this clinic unscathed.  _Oh dear,_ Remus worried again, looking at Padfoot and wondering if he had any answers to this social dilemma.

Grey eyes caught Remus's anxious amber and widened. 'You!' Padfoot's pen clattered to the floor noisily as he stared at Remus. It was quite uncomfortable as Remus did not like to be stared at very much. 'Why are you here? Don't tell me you actually came back for an answer?' Padfoot's face turned red as Remus nodded in confirmation. He ran a hand through his long black hair, dislodging a few strands from his neat ponytail. 'Okay,' he seemed to tell himself more than Remus. 'Calm, Black, calm. That's it.' He sighed heavily. 'Look, I don't know what you're playing at or who put you up to this ridiculous joke, but-'

'This isn't a joke,' Remus interrupted, his head tilting questioningly. 'A joke usually involves much laughter, but it seems to me as though none of us are laughing. You are, however, turning a shade of puce. Is that normal?'

Sirius's face, if possible, got even redder. 'Look,' he started out, his finger shaking slightly as he pointed it at Remus. 'Look,' he repeated and Remus was quite unsure where to look. There did not seem much left that he already hadn't looked at. 'I am grateful to you for bringing back Harry the other day. I can't imagine what I would have done if he'd met someone…' Sirius's hands moved about randomly, ' _weirder_ than you. But here's the thing, you can't just come in here and take up valuable time that can be used to treat other patients, unless you are genuinely sick or suffering from disease.'

 **Disease [** dih **-zeez]: a disordered or incorrectly functioning organ, part, structure or system of the body.**

'I am diseased,' Remus stated with much consideration. 'After I met you, my heart seems to be beating faster and often times there is sweat collecting in my palm and heat collecting in my cheeks. Also, my throat experiences slight congestion every time I try to talk to you. It is quite inconvenient.'

Sirius did not seem at all pleased by Remus's rather intelligent deduction. He rubbed his forehead, fiddled with his hair, did the routine of  _calm, Black, calm,_ and beat his fingers on the desk, before exploding, 'OUT! OUT before I call security, or better still, I do the job myself. Out! Out! Out!'

'Dr. Black!'

The receptionist lady had come back, looking terrified and frantic. 'Dr. Black, you need to calm down! There are patients outside; whatever will they think?'

'Mary, what in God's name possessed you to let this bloody lunatic in here?'

 **Bloody**  [ **bluhd** -ee]:  **stained or covered with blood.**

Remus blinked and looked down at himself. He did not see any open wounds or blood, for that matter. Perhaps Padfoot had misdiagnosed him or misunderstood his symptoms?

'Dr. Black, please-'

'Do you know what he said to me? He said he wanted to…he wants to…' Sirius's face coloured brightly and he faltered. Remus felt triumphant over the successful demonstration of his theory, where he'd predicted that humans tended to forget and needed to be reminded repeatedly of the simplest of facts. He had known from the very beginning that his visit would not go to waste. 'He…' Sirius tried to remember again, looking back and forth between Remus and Mary, before deflating. 'Never mind what he wants!'

'I wanted to ask you on a date,' Remus supplied helpfully, hoping to trigger Sirius's memory.

Mary burst into a stream of giggles, even as Sirius's face turned from blue to purple to pink to a very bright red. While Remus did think Sirius fit the definition of beautiful very nicely, his chameleon colour changes were rather unattractive. 'GET HIM OUT OF HERE!'

Remus looked down at his chest, wondering if he was ill. In between all the mad, frantic beating of his heart, it had hurt just a little bit. It was a horridly inconvenient feeling.

'I can't, Doctor,' Mary continued to laugh, even though she had already approached Remus and urged him to stand with a gentle push to his shoulder. 'Mr. Lupin is a very good friend of our Director's and the Director has given him free reign to this clinic. He is allowed to come here whenever he feels the need for it. You know what our Director says, 'Help will always be given at Hogwarts for those who ask for it.'

'Help is right,' Sirius muttered under his breath. 'I'm going to talk to Dumbledore myself!'

Remus sighed in disappointment. He had still not gotten his 'yes' from Sirius Black.

Tomorrow, he supposed, he would have to come back.

* * *

 **Hug [** huhg **]: to clasp tightly in the arms, especially with affection; embrace.**

'Dumbledore, I need to talk to you.'

Remus looked up from his hug to see Sirius Black standing at the doorway with his eyes wide open. Completely involuntarily, Remus found the ends of his mouth lifting slowly to the rapidly increasing beat of his heart.

 **Smile [** smahyl **]: to assume a facial expression indicating pleasure.**

'Dr. Black, do come in. We were just talking about you!' Dumbledore said amiably, patting Remus on the head as he unwrapped his arms from around him. Remus felt an unexplainable sense of loss. Dumbledore would always hold Remus in embrace as an introductory greeting for exactly 17.2 seconds. It felt very welcoming; Remus reckoned because Dumbledore had very natural paternal traits. Today, however, they were cut short at 14.8 seconds by Padfoot, who did not seem at all pleased to be here. Still, Remus did not voice his disappointment and sat back down on his seat. It was a rather nice sofa, plush purple with little golden stars that matched Dumbledore's tie.

'What is he doing here?' Padfoot asked, still refusing to move from his place at the door. 'Why is he  _always_ here? Are you stalking me?' he demanded, suddenly turning that horridly unattractive shade of puce. Remus really did not like it when Sirius changed colours. He also did not like it when Sirius pointed fingers; they were distracting.

'Calm down, Sirius,' Dumbledore said gently. 'Remus is hardly a cause for concern. He is a good friend of this hospital and of mine as well.' He smiled at both Remus and Sirius. 'Sit down; perhaps we could sort out this misunderstanding. Remus,' he started, as Sirius grudgingly sat down in the seat farthest from them and crossed his arms over his chest, 'why don't you tell me how all this started?'

'I asked Dr. Black to marry me,' Remus stated truthfully.

Padfoot's face changed colour again. Dumbledore, however, seemed to be experiencing some sort of facial twitching. 'I see,' he said finally, clearing his throat. 'May I ask why?'

Remus tapped his chin thoughtfully. 'As per your instructions, Dumbledore, I must only marry when I display symptoms of heart skipping and extreme happiness. Currently, as I am sitting here and gazing at Padfoot, I am feeling quite happy.' He smiled again, to make sure his extreme show of happiness was apparent.

'Are you fucking with me?' Sirius asked, getting off his chair in one swift movement. 'Are you bloody fucking with me? Dumbledore, you put him up to this? Are you ragging me because I'm new here or is this like a regular practical joke that you happen to play on employees? Just like those spiders in the bathroom or that exploding kitchen tap?' He ran a hand through his hair; something he seemed to do very often. Pacing back and forth, Sirius shook his head and muttered under his breath, 'Nutters, all of you. I don't know why I thought coming to this town would be a change for us. It's worse than the last. I should have just stayed, damn it.'

'Sirius, do calm down. I apologise for the inconvenience, but Remus means well,' Dumbledore called out, his long fingered hands gesturing towards the couch Sirius had been occupying only moments before his outburst. 'Why don't you let me explain?' He waited patiently for Sirius to sit back down (quite reluctantly). Despite the ill directed scathing looks Sirius was sending both of them, Remus had utmost faith in Dumbledore and kept quiet when Dumbledore began to explain. 'You see, Remus here, had been a patient of mine for over five years now. He was quite resistant at first, but he's grown to become a fine human being, if I do say so myself.' Remus beamed with pride. Yes, he  _had_  become quite a fine human being. 'But the bumps in the way were quite unpleasant. One of Remus's biggest mistakes, unfortunately, was getting married.'

'This crazy bloke has been married before?' Sirius spluttered disbelievingly.

Remus decided to take offense. 'I have. We were married for six months.'

Sirius's eyes opened and closed, mirroring his mouth which seemed to be trying very hard to say something. 'Where did you find a bint willing enough to marry you?'

'In the newspaper,' Remus replied smugly.

Sirius blinked and then snorted. 'What?'

'Dumbledore had explained to me that the key to happiness is love, which can be obtained by courting and then eventual marriage.'

 **Happiness [hap-** ee-nis **]: pleasure, exhilaration, joy, bliss, contentedness, delight, enjoyment, satisfaction.**

Remus looked towards Dumbledore who smiled and encouraged him to go on. 'I have always found answers in text, so I decided perhaps I could also find happiness there. The advertisement was quite lovely; she had pink hair and a very stubby nose; and her name sounded like it was out of a novel. She didn't even want to be courted, which was quite convenient since I would not have to spend much effort in obtaining this _happiness_ ,' Remus explained logically. Now that he thought about it, it wasn't all that logical, but at the time, it seemed horribly so. Of course, it was before Dumbledore had explained the error in his reasoning.

'It was a pity it didn't work out,' Dumbledore nodded sympathetically. 'She was quite… _special.'_

 **mental [men-** tl **]: not of sound mind.**

'Yes,' Remus agreed, though not whole heartedly. 'But Dumbledore has imparted very wise advice since then and assured me that often, patience bears fruit. I have waited.' He pointed towards Sirius with a smile. 'You are my fruit.'

Sirius slapped a hand to his forehead.

* * *

'Hello, Mister.'

Remus looked up from his painting, smearing colour from his fingers as he pushed his fringe from his forehead. 'Hello, Harry,' he greeted back, surveying the little boy in front of him curiously. Harry was wearing a nice yellow school shirt with beige shorts today. His knees were an impressive display of scabs and scrapes, and his hands were caked with mud and fertilizer from the garden. Remus assumed that Harry had, yet again, crawled through his beloved strawberry patch. 'Why are you here?'

Harry shrugged and sat down beside Remus. 'My teacher, Mrs. Figg, asked me to stand outside. So I thought I could stand outside in your garden.'

'But you are sitting,' Remus pointed out.

Harry pouted. 'But my knees hurt when I stand for long. You won't tell, will you?' He looked to Remus with large, pleading eyes and Remus did not feel the need to mention that he had not yet made acquaintance with Mrs. Figg. Personally, Remus was not very fond humans named after fruits.

 **Dumb [** duhm **]: lacking intelligence or good judgment.**

'Can I stay here?' Harry asked, wiping his soiled hands on his t-shirt. It left tiny fingerprint smears all over his clothes, right up to the edges. 'I don't want to go to the clinic. It smells.' He did seem very upset at the prospect of going to the clinic, though Remus could not understand why. Remus rather enjoyed going to the clinic; Dumbledore was often there and now, so was Sirius. The skipping that his heart did every time he met the dark haired man was extremely pleasurable. 'I like it here,' Harry continued, shoving a dirty thumb in his mouth.

'Does that taste good?' Remus asked curiously, observing Harry thumb disappear into his mouth.

The thumb was brought back out with a light  _pop,_ and displayed in front of Remus's face. 'Would you like some?' Harry asked, courteously.

Remus surveyed the saliva and mud dripping off the boy's thumb. 'No, thank you.' He had once been read that young children developed habits of putting their thumbs in their mouth because they were used to the motions suckling. As Harry did not have a mother, Remus asked thoughtfully, 'Do you miss breasts?'

Harry looked up and replied through a mouthful of finger, 'Do you get that at the supermarket?'

Remus frowned. 'I once got them from a newspaper,' he replied finally, remembering his ex-wife. Shrugging, he went back to his painting; dipping his fingers into his palette and mixing the colours in thoroughly before bringing them to the canvas. Most days, he painted his garden. He was used to the bright colours; greens, pinks, and powders blues; and often painted them in mechanically. Sometimes, Remus painted the streets and houses across him, and sometimes he painted the skies. Today, however, Remus decided to pour out his yellow paint into his palette. Looking at the little figure crouched beside him, peering interestedly at his painting while sucking relentlessly on his thumb; Remus decided today he was going to paint a Harry.

 **Companionship [** k _uh_ m **-pan-** y _uh_ n-ship **]: association as companions; the state of being with someone.**

'Can I paint also?' Harry asked, after long periods of quiet wherein Remus had managed to finish Harry's scraped knees and dirty trousers. 'In class, they make us use brushes. But your way looks more fun.'

 **Fun [** fuhn **]: something that provides mirth or amusement.**

Remus rather liked being fun. He did not mention that sometimes, he also used brushes. Today was just one of those days when he wanted to enjoy the slippery feeling of paint in his hands and the pull of dry colour flaking against his skin. Sometimes, Remus liked to stand in front of the mirror and see himself in a rainbow of colours; swirling across his face and staining his clothes in artistic swatches. Most days, Remus looked very brown. His hair was brown, his eyes were brown, his clothes were brown – they were things that splashes of paint were very adept at fixing. So, feeling rather  _fun,_ Remus extended a spare canvas and his palette to Harry.

'I wish you would come home with me,' Harry voiced, as he dipped his whole hand into the palette. 'We could paint all day and I'd show you all my toys. Padfoot is always too busy to play with me. All he does is sleep and work.' Harry's thumb came up to make a little circle and then in childish stick figure fashion, he drew a body, a pair of arms and legs. From the shock of black hair and the pink angry frown, Remus could tell that this was perhaps a portrait of Padfoot himself. 'He takes me to the park sometimes, though. I like that. Would you come to the park with us, Mister?'

Remus wanted to express how much he'd like to come if Sirius was coming, but his voice was suddenly drowned out by the blare of inconveniently loud sirens. Both Remus and Harry immediately put their hands over their ears, looking at each other curiously and then peeking over the bushes to see the commotion. The highlighter yellow car screeched to a halt right in front of the Lupin residence and just as the police officers were scrambling to get out, Harry pulled Remus down again to hide behind the bushes. 'The police only come if you've been a bad boy,' he whispered, huddling close to Remus in fear and covering his eyes with both his hands. Remus did not think this helped him become inconspicuous. 'I broke Padfoot's mug last night. Do you think they've come for me?'

'Remus Lupin, you are under arrest for the kidnapping of Harry Potter! Put your hands in the air and reveal yourself quietly!'

Harry peeked up at Remus through parted fingers, his green eyes going wide. 'Uh-Oh!'

 **Trouble [truhb-** _uh_ l **]: to disturb the mental calm and contentment of; worry; distress; agitate.**


	3. [buht-er-flahy]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus has lived for twenty five years now. Due to his incapability to emote or feel many complicated things at the same time, he has always maintained a straight face, his facial features sitting at an angle of approximately a hundred and seventy four point two d though he has practiced it many times before in front of the mirror, Remus has truly never smiled.

'Hide!' Harry whispered, pulling Remus's head further down behind the bushes and closing his eyes tightly. 'They won't find you here!'

Remus surveyed the small fingerprint stains in his hair and face, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Remus had learnt from various texts that the police appearing on your front steps were never good news. Especially if they had come to investigate, which , Remus knew, would take forever. In novels, this forever often lasted two hundred to five hundred pages. Till then, often, the wrong suspect would be kept locked in prison until proven innocent by a miracle witness towards the end. Remus did not have five hundred pages worth of time, nor did he want to be locked up again; but it seemed he would have to pin his hope on his only miracle witness – five year old Harry Potter.

Harry put one index finger against Remus's lips and another over his own. 'Just keep quiet and they'll never know.'

 **Doom** [doom]: **a** **judgment,** **decision** **,** **or** **sentence,** **especially** **an** **unfavorable one.**

'Mr. Lupin,' a stern voice called from above them. Both Remus and Harry looked up to see a woman, dressed smartly in a black and yellow uniform peering down at them. She had her hands crossed over her rather small chest and she did not look at all pleased with the situation. 'I asked you to reveal yourself, did I not?' She pinched her brows together and pursed her lips, perhaps in an attempt to look intimidating. Remus thought that the glint of her police badge was quite intimidating all by itself. 'Mr. Lupin,' the officer tried again exasperatedly as Remus kept his eyes firmly closed and his head down. Ignorance is bliss; he told himself repeatedly despite reason. 'I can see you perfectly from up here. Closing your eyes will hardly make you invisible.'

'Harry, thank God I found you!' Another voice screamed and Remus could see her feet running towards them from under the bushes. She was wearing mustard yellow ballet shoes and what Remus could assume was a flower printed skirt. Her feet looked very wrinkled and had veins branching all the way up to her ankles. 'I've called your Godfather already; he was sick with worry!'

'Oh, no!' Harry flattened himself to the ground and crawled under Remus's legs. 'Oh, no, Mrs. Figg is here! Mister, save me, please, please, save me!'

The woman stopped in front of the bushes, making the leaves shiver. When Remus glanced up through his parted fingers, he realised that his assumption had been correct and she really was a very old lady. Her fly away gray hair was sparse on her head and the skin on both her cheeks and chin had swung down to her neck. She was wearing a light pink cardigan to cover her rather failing chest. 'Oh, Harry, dear, are you all right? This horrid man hasn't hurt you, has he?' Bending right over, she put both hands under Harry's arm pits and lifted him up, similar to the way Sirius had when Remus had first met him. Harry squealed loudly, his feet swinging and knocking once against the bushes and again right into the police woman's thigh.

Before Harry could move out of his reach, Remus grabbed him by both his ankles and pulled downwards. 'He doesn't like you,' he stated bluntly, pulling harder this time so that Harry slipped away and fell backwards into Remus's lap. 'Neither do I,' Remus added as a petulant after thought, remembering that she had called him horrid.

 **rude**  [rood]:  **discourteous or impolite, especially in a deliberate way.**

'This is obviously  _not_ a kidnapping case, Mrs. Figg,' the police woman scolded, glaring at the old woman after having watched the whole turn of events intently. 'This child has come here by his own will and I think that is fairly obvious by the way he is clinging to Mr. Lupin here. I could have you arrested for filing a faulty complaint.'

Mrs. Figg spluttered indignantly and pointed at Remus in an accusatory manner, 'He has obviously brainwashed and seduced this naive child! He is a fiend; a pedophile! Is the police honestly going to let this criminal roam free, so that he can target more innocent children like Harry here! Is there no justice in this town?'

 **hate**  [heyt]: **to dislike intensely or passionately**

The police woman looked to Harry, who had now entirely wrapped himself around Remus – arms encircling his shoulders and legs around Remus's waist. He had hidden his face into Remus's neck and was refusing to come out. Remus had seen pictures of such behaviour in National Geographic magazines. They were exhibited usually by the offspring of apes or monkeys in times of climbing trees or nursing. Unfortunately, Remus's biology restricted him from doing either.

'False alarm, boys!' She called out and Remus could hear the annoyed groans of the policemen who had come all this way for nothing. The siren clicked noisily before switching off, much to Remus's relief. Loud noises really did bother him; he had still not grown accustomed to it like he had everything else. 'Mrs. Figg, if you cannot handle your students then perhaps you should consider another occupation instead of disrupting mine,' the police woman continued sternly, a finger raised towards Harry's teacher. Curiously, Harry peeked out of his hiding place within Remus's shirt folds. When she turned towards them, Harry hid his face again and whimpered. 'Mr. Lupin, I apologise. I didn't recognise your name until just now; I should have known you would never do such a thing.' She smiled kindly and placed a gentle hand on his head.

 **Uncomfortable** [uhn- **kuhmf** -t _uh_ -b _uh_ l, - **kuhm** -fer-t _uh_ -b _uh_ l] **:** **causing** **discomfort** **or** **distress.**

'We've always heard so much about you; I was still in police academy when it all happened.' She had still not removed her hand and Remus squirmed uncomfortably. He did not like strangers touching him; especially ones he did not trust. 'I hope you're all right now.'

 **baffled**  [ **baf** - _uh_ l]:  **to** **confuse,** **bewilder,** **or** **perplex.**

She did not seem to notice both Remus and Harry's teacher's worry. The police woman turned strict again as she faced her small squad, her hand thankfully leaving Remus and grabbing hold of Mrs's Figg instead. Unlike with Remus, she did not make an effort to be gentle and pulled Mrs. Figg despite her numerous protests. 'You have a hefty fine to fill, Mrs. Figg,' was the only explanation she gave as she dragged the old woman away.

 **relief**  [ri- **leef** ]:  **a** **lleviation,** **ease,** **or** **deliverance** **through** **the** **removal** **of** **pain or distress.**

'Are you sick, Mister?' Harry asked, peeking out again, once he was sure the police had left. He put his hand across Remus's forehead smearing green paint all over, as looked thoughtful. 'You should go to Padfoot; he's a doctor, you know.'

Remus looked at Harry.

 **Brilliant** [ **bril** -y _uh_ nt]:  **having** **or** **showing** **great** **intelligence.**

* * *

 **Destiny** [ **des** -t _uh_ -nee]:  **the** **predetermined,** **usually** **inevitable** **or** **irresistible,** **course** **of events.**

Sirius opened his front door even before Remus could ring the bell, which was quite convenient as Harry had yet to let go off his monkey-hold on Remus. Remus was never one to complain, but it was quite uncomfortable as it felt like walking with an extra appendage attached to him. Also, Remus had yet to figure out where to place his hands in situations such as this. They seemed a bit odd and awkward to be hanging on the sides, but Harry's death-like grip on Remus's shoulders and waist also kept him from falling so it seemed pointless to be holding him. Harry's rolled up paper drawing, which was clenched in a small, tight fist, bumped against Remus's bottom with every step.

 **Spank**  [spangk]: **to strike a person especially on the buttocks, as in punishment.**

Also, Remus could not see his feet or the ground beneath him, which left him sincerely hoping that he did not fall into an immediate ditch or sewer. Still, Remus was quite thankful for Harry's presence. It seemed, after the first incident, Sirius had taken necessary precautions and put a tag around Harry's neck, safely tucked behind his shirt, that read:

**Help! I'm lost! Please return me to:**

**Number 13, Green Haven Road**

**Lewes, East Sussex, UK**

**Tel: 01273 406446**

Remus doubted that even a child like Harry would find his way outside the United Kingdom or even Lewes. But Sirius's overestimation of Harry's capabilities did aid Remus in finding his final destination: the man he was quite determined to court, if not marry.

'Harry!' Sirius screamed in a pitch not dissimilar to that of the police siren. His tie was hanging askew on his neck, doctor's coat sliding off one shoulder, and his hair was in complete disarray. He looked horribly worried as he stared into Remus's eyes; grey against amber. 'I just got a phone call from the school and then again from the police! They told me you'd run away! What in God's name were you thinking?' His tensed face slowly scrunched up in anger, brows furrowing and unattractive lines appearing on his forehead. 'I can't go a single day without you creating some kind of mischief! One day, Harry, that's all I ask! One day where I don't receive a complaint from a teacher because you've turned someone's hair blue or run away or-'

'You're making him wet my shirt,' Remus found it important to point out, despite it being slightly rude to interrupt.

'He's potty trained!' Sirius snapped, looking quite offended.

 **Potty [pot** -ee **]: _Chiefly_ _British_ _Informal_. slightly insane; eccentric.**

Remus frowned in confusion and turned around to display the bawling child still clinging on to his shoulders. Harry was sparing no amount of body fluids as he continued to hiccup and cry at alternate intervals. His eyes, nose, and mouth were leaking profusely. This, Remus, knew was a sign of being upset; though he did think that perhaps Harry was overreacting slightly. Turning somebody's hair blue was hardly a reason to cry. In fact, Remus realised, there was no emotional reaction that he could appropriately document in his library of knowledge for this very event. What would blue hair even achieve?

Sirius rubbed his face tiredly. 'Harry, please get down and go to your room.'

Harry silently shook his head between sobs.

'Harry,' Sirius repeated with a bite of impatience, 'this is a time out. I won't ask again. Please get down and go to your room.'

'NO!' Harry screamed loudly, startling Remus. The child had finally lifted his head and Remus surveyed the wet and slightly sticky patch on his shirt. His maid was not going to be pleased with the laundry this week. Realising that the damage had already been done, Remus decided to clean the rest of Harry's face with his sleeve so that it did not seem so unsightly. Remus did not like messes very much; unless they were in the garden or on the canvas. 'You'll just make me go with you to the hospital again and I  _hate_  it there! It smells!' Harry scrunched up his face and Remus sincerely hoped that the lad's rather indulgent fluid tap did not open up again. 'I want to stay with Mister!'

Sirius was changing colours again.

 **Rainbow [reyn** -boh **]: a display of bright colours.**

He glared at Remus accusingly, his jaw quivering with suppressed rage. His hand rose and Remus closed his eyes, anticipating a blow. Of the many things Remus was not well revised in, one was fighting and defense techniques. However, he did have an understanding of pain and he prepared himself for it. Surprisingly, none came and Remus had to sigh both in disappointment and relief. Relief because he had safely avoided being hit and disappointment because he had judged Sirius wrongly. Remus had spent much of his early days with Dumbledore trying to understand feelings, reactions, and reason; had his lessons failed him entirely today? When Remus peeked through his eyes, Sirius's expression had changed to one of adamancy, as he pulled Harry forcefully off of Remus. The little boy screamed loudly as his hold on Remus's neck loosened and he struggled to escape.

'Stay here,' Sirius commanded between his teeth, much to Remus's happiness. He had been afraid he would be told to leave again similar to his last visit.

Wailing, Harry was carried inside and up the stairs. He could hear faint cries coming from inside and Sirius's muffled voice changing tones - angry and loud to gentle and strict. Remus waited patiently, teeter tottering on the balls of his feet. Curiously, he watched as a man rode his bicycle across the street, his decorated wheels lighting up in a flurry of blues and reds. A handful of sparrows landed on the grass near his feet, chirping merrily.

'Why are you doing this?'

Remus turned to face Sirius, who no longer seemed angry.

 **Sad**  [sad] **: affected by unhappiness or grief; sorrowful or mournful.**

'Why are you doing this?' Sirius asked again and Remus looked around wondering which of his activities was upsetting Sirius so. Should he stop watching the birds or perhaps it was his stance? 'Ever since you appeared, things have progressively gone from wrong to disastrous. Do you enjoy mucking things up this way?' He grabbed hold of Remus's collar, not even cringing at the wetness that had been left over from Harry's tears. 'You don't think I know that I'm a bad parent; that I'm doing a shite job at handling one little boy? You don't have to come to me and rub it in my face this way!' He shook Remus with every word quite violently, making his eyes cross over slightly.

 **Dizzy [diz** -ee **]: having a sensation of whirling and a tendency to fall; vertiginous.**

'I'm trying my hardest to be there for him. I finished medical school, I spent every penny I had of my inheritance, I tried my best to keep him fed and happy; so who are you to come along and steal him from me!' He shook Remus even harder, his teeth bared almost dog-like. 'Five years! Five years I waited for him to acknowledge me as his father or at least his family; and suddenly you come along, and he wants to live with you instead!' Sirius panted hard, finally letting go of Remus's collar. 'Who are you?' He asked, looking down as his fingers clenched into tight fists. 'Who are  _you!_ '

Remus blinked rapidly, his eyes still struggling to right the world. 'Remus John Lupin,' he replied simply. He was almost sure that he had mentioned his name before. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands and looked at Sirius curiously. 'You look like the picture Harry drew,' he pointed out as an observation. He picked up the painting that had fallen to the ground during Harry's struggles and unrolled it to reveal the unfinished finger painting. Initially, Remus had thought of it as glaringly ugly, but upon closer inspection, he realised that it was rather accurate – from the long black hair to the large frown line extending all the way down to Sirius's chin.

Sirius's hands shook as he reached for the painting. 'Harry drew this?' He asked, perhaps not having heard Remus the first time. Remus wondered if Sirius had any developing hearing problems. His eyes roamed over the painting and Remus remembered that Sirius had yet to complete his rant. Should Remus have not changed the subject? 'It's horrible. No wonder he fails in every art class,' Sirius commented with a laugh, though thankfully he did not seem so upset anymore. Remus chest hurt when Sirius looked upset. 'He's never brought home any drawings before…' He looked up at Remus, smiling for the first time since they'd met. 'Thank you.'

 **Butterflies [buht** -er-flahy **]: butterflies, _Informal:_ a queasy feeling of nervousness or excitement.**

'Can I come in?' Remus asked, trying to swallow away the butterflies now crowding in his throat. Smiles were nice; he thought. Especially if they were Sirius smiles.

 **Pun**  [puhn]:  **the humourous use of a word or phrase as to emphasize or suggest its different meanings or applications; a play on words.**

'No.'

Then, much to Remus's discontent, the front door was closed on his face.

 **Bummer [buhm** -er **] : any frustrating or disappointing experience.**

* * *

_Sirius grinned at James from inside the broom cupboard, not in the least bothered by the fact that his shirt was still lying on the floor somewhere. He clucked his tongue in mock disappointment as he watched Sid Finnegan walk away, cheeks flaming red from having been caught necking. Such a shame; Sirius had been looking forward to a quick rendezvous before being subjected to yet another detention with Professor McGonagall. 'You used to be fun, once upon a time,' Sirius pointed out when James looked at him disapprovingly._

' _We need to talk,' was all James said, his hands crossed over his chest. No jokes; no casual retorts about how Finnegan already had a boyfriend or how Sirius was going to get himself killed one day – nothing._

' _You aren't breaking up with me, are you?' Sirius joked to lighten the mood, pretending to be heartbroken and clutching at his heart. 'Oh James, what ever will I do without you!'_

' _I'm serious, Padfoot.' Whatever joke Sirius was going to make died on his lips as soon as he saw the hardened look in his best friend's eyes. 'Can we talk somewhere private? I don't want anyone to listen in; not yet at least.' James pointed towards one of the empty classroom nearby with his chin, silently asking Sirius to follow. 'It's just that…' James waited for Sirius to get in, slow from confusion, and then closed the classroom door. 'Lily's pregnant,' he said finally, still facing the door._

_For the first time in his life, Sirius was rendered speechless._

' _We found out last night. Her parents are not taking it well and truthfully, neither are mine.' James sighed, settling down beside Sirius, who seemed to have gone rigid with shock. 'We've decided to keep it, but honestly, that's as far as I've thought it out. I don't know what to do.' He ran a hand through the back of his hair nervously. 'Tell me what to do, Padfoot.'_

_Sirius laughed weakly. 'Why are you asking me? Shite!' He rubbed his face, as his brain tried and failed to wrap around the sudden course of events. He had known the minute James had declared his undying love for Lily Evans that the woman would bring nothing but trouble. It wasn't that he hated her. The thing Sirius hated was_ _change_ _and she was the personification of it. She had changed James's from prankster extraordinaire to responsible Head Boy; from lady killer to handbag carrier; from Sirius's weekend drinking buddy to Sirius's juice sipping ponce. And now, she was bringing in another change –_ _Daddy_ _James Potter. 'Shite,' Sirius cursed again as he realised the implication of it. 'What are you going to do now? Marry her?'_

_James shrugged. 'It would be the right thing to do, wouldn't it? School ends next month; I could ask her then.'_

_Sirius looked at his shoes. 'And what then? How are you going to take care of this baby_ _and_ _her? What about joining the club; playing professionally?'_

' _It was a stupid dream anyway. I was never very good.' Sirius looked at him incredulously; James had only lead them to victory for two consecutive years in the Inter-School Games. 'I'll take up a part-time job or ask dad to help out for a while; go to medical school just like mum wanted. My grades are good; I can probably get a scholarship.'_

_Sirius's eyes widened. Crazy! Impossible! 'You can't just throw your dream away like that! We made a promise! We would play for the Wasps together!'_

' _Playing football doesn't feed a family, Sirius!' James yelled, banging the table with his fist and startling Sirius into silence. 'There is more to life than silly games and sex; and if you don't figure yourself out soon, then reality is going to hit you like a hammer.'_

Sirius groaned softly in his sleep, desperately trying to kick away the sheets that tangled and bound his feet together.

' _Do you want to hold him?' Lily asked with a tired smile. When Sirius seemed reluctant, she laughed, 'He doesn't have teeth yet, so he won't bite, I promise. Come on.' She beckoned him closer, sharing a secret smile with James who stood quietly beside her. 'Come on; don't be afraid.' Her hands reached out for him, closing around his wrists and guiding his arms over each other to form a cradle. 'You just need to watch the head, all right? That's good…'_

_Sirius's hands were shaking from effort. He had never realised how small babies were until now. The small infant in his arms was soft; brittle bones shaping squishy arms and little feet. In his head, Sirius counted all of the baby's fingers – one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Tufts of soft black hair, curious green eyes, and a toothless yawn that told Sirius that he should keep very, very silent. He traced every perfect feature with the tip of his index finger, gasping in pleasant surprise when a tiny mouth suddenly closed around it and started sucking._

_Nine months._

_Nine months Sirius had spent hating this little child._

_And all it took was nine seconds to fall completely in love with him._

_James grinned, his eyes reflecting happiness that Sirius had never seen before. He wrapped an arm around his wife, chest puffing out proudly as he announced, 'Sirius Orion Black, meet Harry James Potter.'_

'Padfoot?'

Sirius clutched the sheets underneath him, pulling them away from the mattress as he twisted and turned.

'Padfoot?'

_Sirius vomited all over the morgue floor, his body shaking and shivering. His head was spinning; the world turning upside down before his very eyes. His balance wavered as his knees gave out underneath him, and he fell to the floor with a wail of anguish. There were feet crowding around him, hands trying to pull him up, words trying to soothe him; but Sirius was immune. He could hear nothing but his own screams of horror and see nothing but the images of his best friend's mangled bodies burned into the back of his eyelids._

_His voice was sore, but he screamed._

_Screamed enough to shatter this dream and bring him back to reality; back to when his best friends had just been going on a drive in their brand new car. It had been second hand; sold to them by a man called Tom Riddle who had a face that looked powdered white and eyes that were rimmed a deep red. Sirius had called it a piece of shite, but James couldn't have cared less. Sirius wanted to go back to when James had been rejoicing his very first big purchase and talking about buying a house once he'd finished medical school. He had carried Lily in his arms like a new bride into the car, while Sirius trailed behind with Harry and buckled him in tightly._

_Sirius screamed till his body surrendered to darkness, brought about by the needle jammed deep into his arm._

_Dead._

_James and Lily were dead._

'Padfoot?'

'Harry?' Sirius blinked his eyes open to find his Godson's face close to his, peering down curiously. Harry was sitting on his chest, legs on both sides and a little black dog balanced on one knee. He was sucking his thumb; a habit Sirius had failed to wring out of him. His overtly long fringe had fallen to his eyes and Sirius gently brushed it back, his eyes lingering too long on the lightning bolt shaped scar on Harry's forehead. Sometimes, he wondered if Harry remembered anything.

'Did you have a bad dream?' Harry asked, tilting his head curiously. It was a habit he'd picked up from his Godfather. 'Don't cry, Padfoot. I had one, too.' Small fingers brushed against Sirius's cheeks and under his eyes.

Sirius touched his face, blinking back in shock when they came out wet. He wiped his eyes roughly, feeling his face burn in shame at being caught crying in front of his Godson – the one person he wanted to be strong for. 'You had a bad dream, you say,' Sirius went on, trying to put his best smile and pulling Harry off his lap and underneath the sheets easily. He laughed when Harry squealed with joy and wiggled under Sirius's grasp. 'Come to sleep with Padfoot now, have you?'

Harry nodded, pulling the sheets up to his chin. 'There are monsters under my bed!' He informed Sirius. 'They hide when you come because they're scared of you! But they really are there, Padfoot, honest!'

Sirius laughed. 'Is that so?' He wrapped an arm around Harry, pulling him close to his chest. So close that he could feel Harry's gentle heartbeat soothing his own. Burying his nose into Harry's hair, he let the sweet smell of baby powder wash over him. If asked, Sirius would never admit that on nights like these, Harry was the only person who could chase away the worst of his fears and closet monsters. He would definitely never admit to sneaking into Harry's room at times to lay next to him and listen to the soft sounds of his breathing.

'Padfoot?'

Sirius rested his chin on Harry's forehead and closed his eyes. 'Hm?'

'Are you really going to marry that Mister?'

Why, Sirius wondered, did  _Remus_ bloody  _Lupin_ always come forth to ruin Sirius's moments of perfect bliss. 'What ever gave you that idea, Harry?' He asked through gritted teeth. He kept his tone as civil and casual as possible, reminding himself that Harry was just a child and didn't know any better.

'My friends say that when people marry and sleep on the same bed together, a baby appears under the bed!' Harry explained with a look of worry. 'But there are monsters under our beds, Padfoot! What if my sister gets eaten?'

Sirius stared at Harry's wide green eyes, trying his best to keep a straight face. Unable to handle the pressure building in his cheeks, Sirius burst out laughing. He hadn't laughed so hard in a long time – head thrown back in glee and uncontrollable barks of laughter bursting through his lips. It only intensified when Harry looked at him petulantly, clearly displeased over being mocked. 'Oh, Harry,' Sirius kissed his Godson on the forehead endearingly. 'Padfoot isn't getting married to anybody, least of all than Loony Lupin.' Sirius chuckled. 'And if you get a sister, I'll have to love you less, won't I? And you'd have to share all that candy I buy you.'

Harry's eyes widened, clearly absorbing all the new information Sirius had bestowed him. Despite knowing how much Harry hated it, he gave in to temptation and pulled Harry's round cheeks and planted big slobbery kiss on the tip of his nose. 'Ron was right,' Harry said finally, coming to some sort of conclusion in his mind, 'Sisters are  _evil!_ ' He pushed closer to Sirius, wrapping his arms tightly around Sirius's waist and digging his face into his Godfather's sleep shirt. 'You won't ever love me less, will you, Padfoot?'

Sirius closed his eyes again. 'No, love,' he replied softly.

Sometimes he wondered if he should ask and relieve himself of the guilt in his gut. He wondered if he should ask if Harry wanted to be with him; or if he would rather live with his grandparents. Was Harry even happy living with Sirius in an old house with only a handful of toys to play with? If anything, Lupin's visit today had only fuelled his fears. The Potters were rich; they would be able to afford lavish toys, a private education and an easy life. They had asked for Harry enough times, but Sirius had refused them repeatedly.

His arms tightened with fear. He was a coward; a selfish coward. He knew he would never ask.

Harry was all Sirius had left anymore; the sole reason he hadn't gone completely mad yet…


	4. [skahy]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus has lived for twenty five years now. Due to his incapability to emote or feel many complicated things at the same time, he has always maintained a straight face, his facial features sitting at an angle of approximately a hundred and seventy four point two d though he has practiced it many times before in front of the mirror, Remus has truly never smiled.

Every bad day Sirius has ever had in his life has started with Harry wanting Weetabix for breakfast. It meant that Harry was by passing his daily dose of sugar laden chocolate cereal for Sirius's bland and rather unattractive pile of mush. Sirius could even predict the degree of bad depending on Harry's choice of cutlery. If Harry insisted on using a soup spoon to eat his Weetabix, Sirius's bad day was going to be a decent amount of bad. If Harry decided on a spoon instead, it would be a substantial amount of bad.

Today, Harry decided he wanted to eat off of Sirius's bowl and disregard his own.

The end of the world was very near.

So was the annual county fair.

On days like these, Sirius took precautions in the form of a bag pack that was too manly to be a baby bag and too ridiculous to be a manly one. It was blue (Harry's favourite colours) and had a picture of Bob the Builder on it. Courtesy of Harry's over imaginative art work, Bob's overalls had been crayoned orange and he was made to hold what could have easily been a blood stained red sword or a Pakistani carrot. The disaster bag contained extra clothes in case Harry fell into the fountain again or decided to stick his face in the chocolate fondue. It also had a first aid kit for the all kinds of possible injury or unfound allergic reactionto nuts, milk, or cotton candy. There was also a fake injection needle if he needed to scare Harry into behaving himself and not terrorising the clowns on stilts or trying to pet any of the pet lions. There was Harry's favourite toy dog and blanket in case he fell asleep in the rotating tea cup again; and an entire box of tissues for spills, sticky fingers, and any kind of crying Harry might do over the period of their journey. Sirius almost considered getting a leash, but decided it would be a bit much and settled for holding Harry's hand tightly within his instead.

Unfortunately, the day had already started going downhill the minute Sirius had stepped out of the house. Nothing in his bag had equipped him for Remus Lupin.

'Stop stalking us!' Sirius warned, not looking back and speeding up his pace. Harry stumbled, struggling to keep up.

'I am not stalking you. Harry has invited me to come.'

Remus Lupin – the chewing gum stuck to the heel of Sirius's shoe. The first time Sirius had seen him, he had been utterly thankful to all the Gods above that Harry had ended up in the arms of a decent stranger rather than a raging pedophile. Now, a week since their first meeting, Sirius wished Harry had been kidnapped for ransom instead. Sirius was not new to the concept of admirers. Though it had been a good few years since college, Sirius had had enough experience with admirers to know what made them tick and how to get rid of them. Back in school, Sirius would simply use them to satisfy his hormonal needs. In college, however, Harry had become his only priority and he would simply brush them off in the rudest manner possible. It was cruel, but his aggressive attitude often shattered the misconceptions people had of him being akin to Prince Charming.

'You singled me out of an entire crowd of people and have been following me for the past fifteen minutes now. That is constituted as stalking.'

The problem with Remus Lupin was that he had no such misconceptions. He wanted Sirius as is and no amount of 'fuck off!' seemed to drive him away. Remus Lupin who looked like he had stepped out of a Jane Austen novel (minus the ruffles, thank God), with his perfectly pressed shirt, suspenders and polished shoes. It wasn't that Sirius did not think he was handsome. It was hard to miss the soft curls of his light brown hair, or the iridescent paleness of his skin, or even the startlingly clear amber eyes that stared back at him with a mixture of curiosity and absolute wonder. But what truly irked Sirius was his persistence and absolutely ridiculous personality. It was as if Sirius was being played for a fool; no human being, he reckoned, could ever say such ludicrous things with a straight face. Things that even rendered Sirius speechless.

'I am not stalking you. I am dating you.'

Such as this.

Only now did Sirius realise that Remus was indeed no longer following them. No; he had managed to catch up with them and was now walking hand in hand with Harry rather cheerfully. He looked at their conjoint hands; Sirius to Harry's right and Remus to Harry's left; and then looked around them. There were people staring at them funnily, whispering behind their hands and a few daring to point as well. Sirius glared at all of them. 'Let go of Harry's hand.'

Remus looked curiously at their joint hands. 'Can I hold yours instead?' When Sirius spluttered incoherently. 'I have read that in dates such as this, you are meant to hold hands. I will also accompany you on all these motor contraptions,' He pointed at the singing merry-go-round, 'and win you inexpensive and unattractive gifts through a display of strength and agility against underhanded gaming tricks.' It took Sirius an entire minute to realise that Remus was referring to the shooting stall.

'Can I have a gift, too, Moony?' Harry asked, looking at the large stuffed wolf at the very top with longing.

Remus did not even seem to hesitate. He paid the salesman for six bullets, straightened his suspenders, spread his legs and took hold of his cheap excuse for a gun. Not that Sirius was an expert, never having handled a gun beyond a few shooting practices with foam bullets during their school years. A greasy boy called Severus had usually been themisfortunate victim. But Sirius's less than generous bank account over the years had thought him to win as many prizes as possible during games like this, to keep Harry satisfied. Be it rings, darts, gun shooting, ball throwing – Sirius's skills made sure Harry left the fair with more toys than he could possibly carry.

'You're never going to win anything like this,' Sirius rolled his eyes as Remus attempted to hold the gun with one hand while closing his eye for a supposedly better aim. He was so off mark that he was more likely to hit himself in the arse before he hit a single target. Sirius fidgeted on his feet impatiently before exclaiming, 'For heaven's sake! Here, let me show you how!' He positioned himself behind Remus and brought his hands over the other man's, guiding them into the right position. 'You'll hurt yourself if you keep your palm here.' He leaned forward over Remus's shoulder to look through to the target, 'Aim when you see the bulls-eye through the centre here; don't raise your gun or tilt it. There, now, pull the trigger.' The bullet went straight through the bulls-eye and Harry erupted into a loud cheer, clapping his hands and dancing around them. Sirius turned to grin at Remus and then felt his breath catch when he realised their faces were extremely close – nose to nose; bodies pressed against each other, back to chest. Remus's bright amber eyes stared at him unabashedly, hot puffs of breath blowing against Sirius's face. His eyes travelled down to Remus's lips, following the slight sheen smeared across where Remus had licked his lips earlier from effort.

'Can I have my toy, now?'

Sirius moved away quickly. 'The wolf, am I right?' He smiled weakly and handed the toy over to Harry. It was a miracle Harry was even standing by himself, since the toy was well bigger than he was. But Harry was clutching on to it quite possessively and Sirius gave it another two hours before Harry would pass it over for Sirius to carry instead.

'Would you have kissed me?'

Sirius's head whipped around and he realised that Remus was still standing in the same position Sirius had left him in. If Sirius's experience was anything to go by, Remus was probably trying to analyse his position with the situation they'd previously been in, while trying to figure out an appropriate (inappropriate) solution for it. This Sirius knew simply by the look Remus had in his eyes; the look that Sirius had gotten used to. The same look that Harry shot him when he wanted to eat Weetabix off of Sirius's bowl. It was the look of utter disastrous consequences.

'Would you have kissed me if we hadn't been interrupted?' Remus, Sirius reckoned, did not understand the meaning of propriety.

Harry was making 'ew' noises, like any five year old, at the mention of kissing. The store keeper, on the other hand, was looking at them curiously with a faint hint of disgust. Sirius blushed bright red, grabbed Harry's hand and started walking. 'I don't know what you're talking about,' he muttered evasively, picking up his pace when Remus had started following them all over again.

'To touch or press with the lips slightly pursed, and then often to part them and emit a smacking sound, in an expression of affection or love.'

Sirius looked back, baffled. 'What?'

'You did not know what I was talking about,' Remus explained as if obvious. 'To kiss is to touch or press with the lips slightly pursed, and then often to part them and emit a smacking sound, in an expression of affection or love,' he repeated again, gesturing to his slightly pouted lips. 'Perhaps you did not understand the mood earlier also? It is quite pleasant. Perhaps I could show you?'

Sirius, if possible, went even redder. 'I know what it is!' Why, he wondered, did he always manage to lose the ability of speech whenever he was with Remus Lupin? Where was all his witticism and casual humour that he'd always been known for? 'I don't need you to-!' He spluttered a little more and shook his head, recognising a lost cause when he saw one. Cursing under his breath, he picked up Harry, doll and all, when he realised that he could not walk fast enough without the boy tripping and stumbling all over himself. In a desperate attempt to rid himself of Lupin's constant shadow, Sirius took a quick left and found himself in an obscenely purple tent.

'Welcome, my dears, to Madame Trelawney's!' Harry giggled at the name, but the woman ignored it, as she walked loopily towards them. Sirius reckoned she was either drunk or had been smoking plants that you didn't quite find in your average garden. Then again, he often thought that about Remus as well. 'Divination is an art; one of the highest caliber. You future, your present, your past – I can see them all!' She came out of the shadows and as her face revealed slowly, Sirius wished she hadn't. Draped in a billowy green gown, a matching headscarf, and multiple bead necklaces; she was a mismatch of a woman. Her magnified eyes peered at Sirius through a pair of thick black glasses, her braided hair swaying and hitting Sirius in the chest. 'Which would you like to know, young man?' Sirius and Harry wrinkled their noses when her stale breath wafted across their faces, as she moved invasively closer.

Suddenly, Sirius felt a hand close around his elbow and pull him backwards. His feet knocked clumsily against one another and he quickly wrapped a hand over Harry's head, expecting to fall. Instead, his back met the hard angles of Remus's chest with a short  _'oof!'_  Sirius glared up at him.

'She was going to kiss you,' Remus replied to his unasked question, clearly displeased. His brows were pinched together in a manner that would have been attractive if Sirius was a little less annoyed.

Despite Remus's accusation being untrue, Sirius could not stop the shudder that passed through him at the very suggestion. He looked back at Madame Trelawney, his eyes falling to her cracked lips and yellowing teeth. 'Don't make silly assumptions by yourself. I'm neither going to kiss her, nor you. Just because our faces are close doesn't mean that we're going to stick them together.' He pushed himself up and set Harry down. 'We're not interested in your predictions,' he said gruffly, looking at Madame Trelawney. She has a look on her face that Sirius could not describe in anyway except "severely constipated". 'Sorry to have troubled you. We'll be going.'

Just as Sirius turned to leave, she appeared in front of him again. 'A pound for three questions!' She screamed unnecessarily, causing Sirius to wince. 'A bargain you cannot refuse! A pound for three questions!'

Sirius was just about to, quite rudely, tell her to fuck off when Harry decided to interrupt with a life altering question, 'Where is the bathroom?'

Sirius slapped a palm to his forehead as Madame Trelawney broke into a wide smile. 'A wise question indeed, young man. It is to the left of the Ferris Wheel of Doom, where things go terribly wrong even if you're just nearby, especially,' She paused for dramatic effect and leaned down towards Harry, 'for little children like you.' Harry whined and hid behind Sirius's leg, jeans clutched tightly in tiny fists. She ignored Sirius's angry glare and turned to Remus cheerily. 'Second question!'

Sirius put a reassuring hand on Harry's head, and was about to give Madame Trelawney a good talking to for unnecessarily scaring children when he was interrupted yet again; this time by Remus Lupin: 'Will we get married?' Remus asked, gesturing in between himself and Sirius.

Harry peeked curiously from the gap between Sirius's legs.

Sirius's fists were clenched together as his face grew hot. Trelawney, surprisingly, seemed unperturbed and answered almost immediately, 'Only if you want to, dear boy,' she replied and then leaned closer as if sharing secrets of some huge conspiracy, 'but it will not be without hardship, no. You will suffer through pain, betrayal, heartbreak, and finally,  _you will live through the worst of your past_.' She wiggled her fingers in front of Remus's face, her beads clicking together noisily.

Remus frowned and looked at Sirius. 'Why is she doing this?' he asked, wiggling his fingers in a mechanical and horrible impression of her. 'Is it of any relevance? I can't think of any purpose it would serve.' This time, he wiggled his fingers in front of his own face as if examining them. 'I did not even get a proper answer,' he continued, completely unfazed by Trelawney's prediction. Unlike Harry, who was now cowering behind Sirius's legs and holding Sirius's knees tight enough to bruise. It was something about her voice, Sirius reckoned, that was frightening him.

'Padfoot, I have to pee!' He complained, twisting his legs together.

'One more question!' Madame Trelawney informed, now turning to Sirius.

'Not interested,' Sirius brushed off, picking up Harry. His Godson was potty trained but not quite yet adept at holding things in. The Ferris Wheel was not far off, which meant that Sirius could get there easily on time if he just put through a little effort. 'We need to get going.'

Madame Trelawney appeared in front of them and spread her hands to keep Sirius from going anywhere. 'Three questions for a pound! You have one more left! Ask anything you like; I always have the answer!'

Sirius grit his teeth, fishing in his pocket for loose change. 'Here's your one pound,' he pushed the coin into her hand angrily. 'Now, can you please get out of my face?'

Madame Trelawney was only happy to oblige, pleased with her income for the day. 'A word of advice, sir, you will say this very thing again today but this disastrous consequences. Watch your words, for they can lead to the downfall of many!' She went back to her attempts at appearing ominous causing Sirius to roll his eyes and push past her as he exited he tent.

Unsurprisingly, Remus was still following them and despite the fact that he was perfectly quiet, his presence alone irked Sirius. The constant shadow that Sirius could see underneath his feet and every time he let his sight venture to the corner of his eyes was an annoyance. Every time Sirius picked up his pace, so did Lupin. Every time Sirius turned to the left, Lupin turned as well. He waited for Remus to speak like he always did and when he found the silence ground on his nerves far more than Lupin's speech, he turned back. It irritated him to no end; irritated because Remus looked entirely lost in thought but maintained perfect sync with each of Sirius's steps.

'In you go, love,' Sirius let Harry down and pushed him towards the cleanest cubicle he could find. 'I'll wait here outside till you're done.' When Harry looked back at him, still clearly scared of Trelawney's "Ferris Wheel of Doom", Sirius urged him on with a smile. 'I'm here,' he assured with a nod. He made a small shooting motion towards the bright red Ferris wheel that could be clearly seen from the window on their right and then closed the door behind Harry, leaving it slightly ajar with his foot since it was missing a handle. He turned, only to come face to face with Remus Lupin. Wide amber eyes stared back at him and Sirius stepped back slightly, feeling his personal space being invaded. They were nose to nose, shoulders and arms brushing against each other; and as Remus stepped closer yet again, their thighs brushed as well.  _Too close!_ 'Can you please get out of my face?' Sirius requested as cordially as he could, one hand against Remus's chest. 'It's stifling with you this close.'

Remus cocked his head to the side. 'I like being close to you,' he said simply. 'It feels pleasant.' He took hold of one of Sirius's hands and Sirius only had seconds to realise how warm they were, before he found his hand resting on top of Remus's chest. He looked back in shock. 'My heart beats faster with every step closer and it should feel uncomfortable, but it doesn't. It only makes me want to come even nearer to you.'

Sirius felt his own heart speed up at the sincerity behind Remus's tone.  _Ridiculous,_ he told himself. It was ridiculous how this man could say such things so easily; not a thought or hesitation in between. It was ridiculous because he didn't even know Sirius, did not understand him even. It was intimidating, frightening; as if everything Sirius had been yearning for and trying to avoid for all these years was being thrown towards him.

And then Remus leaned down slowly, pressing his lips to Sirius's cheek. Soft; Remus's lips were incredibly soft, and he smelled like chocolate and spices which was such an odd combination. For a second, Sirius's eyes fluttered close as Remus pressed another to kiss to his cheek, lingering slightly this time.

'Padfoot, I'm done.'

That was when reality came crashing down and Sirius found his previous terror materialising to annoyance and anger, until all he could think was, _how dare he; how dare he…_

His ears burned with hotly and he barely registered Harry coming out of the cubicle, looking much more relieved than he had a few seconds ago. All he knew was that he had to escape; to get away from Remus before he managed to drive Sirius insane. His hands rose on their own record, his lips pulling back in a growl as he pushed the other man back violently into the cubicle. 'I asked you to get out of my face!' He pretended not to have seen the look of surprise on Remus's face as he fell back nor the fact that the door had closed loudly on its own accord. He pretended not to hear the surprised shouts from inside or the screams of protest from Harry, as he picked up his Godson roughly and stormed out of the toilets. He ignored the tears that Harry cried as he called Remus's name like a plea and the silence that followed for an hour afterwards, as Harry refused to speak to him entirely.

 _Enough,_ he told himself. He had had enough of this farce; enough of playing the nice guy and putting up with Remus Lupin's eccentricities. _Enough._

* * *

'Would you like some candy, Harry?' Sirius tried to bribe for the fifteenth time today. He knew it was moot point even before Harry's petulant no and refusal to hold Sirius's hand. He had acquired this knowledge from an entire hour worth of experience within which, Sirius had won fifteen different stuffed toys, bought and eaten alone an entire box of popcorn, cotton candy, and Thailand mangoes. He felt vaguely sick and was struggling to carry all of Harry's goodies, despite the bags he'd bought to stuff them in.

'I want Moony.'

Sirius sighed. 'Why do you keep calling him Moony?'

Harry glared and repeated for the hundredth time that day, 'I want Moony.'

'Look, he's probably gone home by now. You wanted to come to the fair, didn't you? Let's have fun, just the two us; like we always do!' Sirius nearly pleaded with his Godson. How, he wondered, did this Remus Lupin manage to attach himself so firmly to Harry. 'How about we stop at the toy store and get you those action figures you like? The ones out of that book – The Nine Tailed Dragon!' If Sirius felt any guilt over how he had behaved with the other man, he did not show it. Remus deserved it, he told himself again and again. Remus deserved it for constantly stalking him and taking advantage of both Harry's naiveté and Sirius's good will. And it wasn't as if Sirius had been that horrible; he had gotten in much worse fights during his college days where blows had been exchanged even. He had only pushed Remus, nothing more. There was no reason for him to feel guilty.

'No. I want you to go get Moony!'

Sirius sighed yet again, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

'I knew it! I knew it! Nothing good ever comes from the Ferris Wheel of Doom!'

To make things worse, Madame Trelawney was standing in the middle of an already crowded street and waving her arms wildly. She was attracting quite a decent bit of attention as well, her braided hair flying across her face as she twirled and antagonised every single person she could find. 'I had predicted this, but they paid me no heed! They brushed it off like an everyday occurrence and this is what happens!' She let out an inhuman wail, her eyes bugging out to look even larger behind her comical lenses. 'The Ferris Wheel of Doom strikes again!'

Anything for publicity, Sirius thought as he tried to shove past the crowd, Harry's hand clutched tightly in his. 'Padfoot, look, the amulice is here!' Harry yelled over Trelawney's screeching and the crowd's shocked gasps. 'Look, look!' Sirius followed Harry's line of sight and sure enough, there was an ambulance with the Saint Mungo's logo lettered in red on the side. 'Why are the letters backwards, Padfoot? Didn't they go to school?' The siren had been turned off, but the lights were still flashing in quick successions as the paramedic crew rushed inside.

'It was horrible, just like I'd said it would be. Blood everywhere; all over the floor! They think someone attacked him and tried to hide the body in the toilets, but I know better!' Trelawney's voice dropped into something of a whisper. 'I know who did this! Only I can tell you the true supernatural powers of the Ferris Wheel of Doom and the curse that surrounds it!'

Sirius frowned, now stopping mid-walk. The toilets?  _No._ He shook his head, feeling foolish for falling into Madame Trelawney's ridiculous attempt at sales.

'Oh, such a beautiful boy, he was. So innocent!' She wiped her eyes, lips quivering and hands clutching the scarf covering her bosoms. 'He asked me if he would ever get married, eyes wide and the colour of molten gold!'

Sirius felt his stomach drop.  _No way._ There was no possibility whatsoever for it to be Remus; none at all. Sirius had only pushed him a little. Remus had been unscathed when Sirius had left him. At least, Sirius thought he was; he had never stopped to check nor gone back despite Harry's constant whining.  _Impossible!_ Had Remus hit his head or fallen on something sharp? Sirius couldn't remember anything incriminating in the cubicle.  _Fuck._

'Excuse me,' Sirius pushed through the crowd roughly, uncaring of all the disgruntled shouts. Harry was protesting behind him, unable to keep up with Sirius's hurried pace and practically running as Sirius dragged him towards the inner circle where Trelawney was still spouting her predictions. 'I'm sorry, excuse me! I need to get to her! Excuse me!' His legs felt heavy and his heart was beating faster the closer he got. 'Please,' he panted, only just realising that he had been running. 'Madame Trelawney,' he placed a hand on her shoulder, forcing her to turn towards him, 'the person in the ambulance, is it the same bloke who was with me?'

The stare she fixed him was blank, as if she was seeing right through him. Her hand closed around his like sharp claws as she leaned closer till their foreheads touched. Under her vacant stare, Sirius felt trapped, an odd sort of fear bubbling within him. 'I told you, young man, to consider the consequences of your actions.'

* * *

Sirius watched horrified as they wheeled what could only be described as carnage into the ER. He had caught a taxi soon after Madame Trelawney had confirmed his worst fears and even paid the driver extra to drive as fast as he could to the hospital. Despite the sharp turns and frightening driving, Sirius had managed to reach only early enough to catch a glimpse of Remus Lupin. Though, he was now thankful that the turbulent car ride and a day spent at the fair had tired little Harry out enough to put him to sleep. Sirius doubted he would have been able to take the sight of his friend like this. All through the ride here, Sirius had been telling himself that Trelawney had been exaggerating; that it was all an elaborate sales pitch to attract more customers.

'Sir, I'm sorry, but children are not allowed in the waiting area.'

Sirius sat down, one hand to his mouth as he clutched Harry with the other tightly. One glimpse; one glimpse was all it took for Sirius to feel sick. He hadn't been able to look past the blood and the deep wounds all across Remus's torso and neck. He hadn't been able to assess what they were from; a sharp object most likely. Nothing else could possibly create this much damage. But how? Why? No amount of fall could have caused this; yet, Trelawney had mentioned that Remus had been trapped in the cubicle till they'd found him.

'Sir, please, I'm going to have to ask you to leave.'

Sirius did not hear the nurse standing above him as he ran a hand through Harry's soft black hair, digging his nose in search of the familiar smell of baby powder of comfort. He knew they weren't supposed to be here; of course he knew hospital rules, but he found himself unable to move. Images of James and lily flashed through his mind; the day he had seen their cold, lifeless bodies in the morgue.  _No. Not again._ His chest felt tight with fear and his throat clogged with guilt. He could not move until he was sure Lupin was safe; until he found out what happened. 'Who did this to you, Remus?' He whispered to nobody, starting to rock back and forth when he felt Harry stir.

'He did it to himself.'

Sirius finally looked up at the sound of a familiar voice. Yet, instead of seeing the kind blue eyes he'd gotten used to over the year, Sirius found himself staring into Dumbledore's hard and furious gaze. It was frightening, in some ways, because Sirius had never seen Dumbledore this angry before; nor had he been on the receiving end of such disappointment. 'I don't understand.'

'I am extremely disappointed in you, Sirius,' Dumbledore scolded, his voice taking a sharp edge to it. Sirius felt his face burn in shame as he looked down. 'I asked you to come here with the firm belief that you had matured to become a very responsible and capable doctor. I had thought you would have grown past all the pranks you used to play as a child. You're still relatively new to this town, so I don't expect you to know much about Remus's behaviour, but at the least, I had expected you to treat him kindly.'

'I didn't do this!' Sirius defended himself. 'I promise to you, I  _did not_ do this! He was just being annoying and persistent, and I lost my cool and-'

'Locked him up in a small bathroom cubicle for an hour and a half?'

Sirius could not find anything more to say. A part of him had known that the door had shut on its own when Remus had fallen; he had even known that the door would lock itself since the handle was missing – the reason he had been extra cautious with Harry. He had known all this and ignored it in his fit of anger, even when Harry had been crying and pleading for Remus. He felt vaguely sick at the realisation that everything had been his fault. 'I still don't understand how he ended up this way,' Sirius shook his head to clear it. 'I would never hurt someone, Dumbledore, you know this!'

Dumbledore sighed and rested a hand upon Sirius's shoulder. 'I know, my boy. I think we should be glad that he hasn't hurt himself beyond recovery.' He looked beyond Sirius, past the reception desk, as if reminiscing. ' _Liberty over confinement; death over entrapment –_ Remus's words, not mine.' He smiled mysteriously when Sirius looked up in question. 'I understand Remus can be difficult sometimes, but it is only because hedoesn't quite perceive things the way you and I do. He doesn't understand how else to express himself rather than to say it upfront, but I assure you, his feelings are true.'

Sirius had never felt more ashamed of himself his entire life. He wanted to apologise, but what good would it do to apologise to Dumbledore. He clutched Harry tighter as if expecting moral support from the sleeping boy; a habit he'd developed for himself.  _Please_ , he thought,  _please let him be all right._ Sirius promised himself he would try to understand Remus a little better; let him down more gently perhaps; or try to help him. Despite being vague, Sirius was slowly beginning to understand Dumbledore's explanation and perhaps even what had happened today in the bathroom. Sirius would be less cruel; he resolved for himself. He would let Harry play with Remus and talk to him on the phone as much as he wanted.

'I feel I am at fault here, as well,' Dumbledore continued, seating himself beside Sirius and touching Harry's forehead gently. 'I did not discourage him in the least when he told me about you. I apologise.' He smiled as his gaze met Sirius's; his eyes crinkling that familiar way that reminded Sirius of Mr. Potter. 'I will speak to him about this, once he has recovered. But, Sirius, perhaps it would be best if both you and Harry avoid meeting or talking to him entirely from now on.'

* * *

'I told you, I want to talk to Moony!' Harry banged the telephone into the receiver and promptly burst out crying. 'Padfoot, they won't let me talk to Moony! They keep asking me to press two and four and five and then playing really stupid music all over again!' He hugged Sirius's knees tightly and buried his face into his trousers, sobbing.

Sirius sighed and kneeled down, so that he and his Godson were face to face. 'Harry, I told you, we're not allowed to talk to Remus.'

'Who said!' Harry cried stubbornly, his face twisting in childish anger and hands balling into small fists. 'Moony is my best friend! He said I could call whenever I wanted! I want to talk to him!' He launched into a full blown tantrum as he thumped his feet against the floor, face going steadily red. 'Please, Padfoot. Please, please; I miss Moony.'

Sirius rubbed the bridge of his nose. A week; an entire week of supposed peace had been granted to them. Sirius had kept true to his word and not visited Remus or allowed Harry to talk to him. Matters were made easier by the fact that Remus was not taking any visitors currently and the nurses had been informed to send back any who tried. Not that Sirius had tried to visit or anything like that; the very idea was ludicrous. In fact, Sirius was secretly glad that he had finally managed to get Remus out of his life with the least bit of trouble possible. He did not have to put up with Lupin's surprise visits to the clinic or the insecurity that bubbled within Sirius was Harry grew more and more attached to the other man. He did not have to listen to Lupin blabbering on and on about going out with him or coming to entirely illogical conclusions.

'Padfoot, remember you said that we should always go see sick people because it makes them feel better.' Harry reminded with eyes now growing wide as he held both of Sirius's hands. 'If Moony is sick, he must be very lonely. And today is Saturday; Moony eats strawberries on Saturdays. We could pick some from his garden and go. Please, Padfoot!' Harry's lower lip trembled and oh, how Sirius hated that look. He hated how cute Harry could be when he wanted, and how easily manipulated Sirius tended to become under such circumstances.

It had been peaceful, this one week; hadn't it? So very peaceful that Sirius found himself getting agitated and distracted work and losing focus in the simplest of tasks. So quiet that Sirius found himself tossing and turning at night, irritated by the sound of silence and unable to sleep.

A week without Remus Lupin had been good, Sirius told himself. Really, it had been brilliant.

'Harry,' Sirius said finally, wiping away his Godson's tears, 'how about we go tomorrow?' He grinned, feeling an odd bubble of mischief grow within him – one he hadn't felt in a long, long time. 'No one said we couldn't deliver flowers.'

* * *

_Blue._

_When Remus finally brought his shaky legs down the staircase, the first thing that caught his sight was the blue. It wasn't that he had never seen blue before; the shirt he was wearing was blue, his father's eyes were blue. But this blue was simply extraordinary. It hurt his eyes just to look at; so bright it was, but that did not keep him from looking._

_Slowly, he advanced towards the blueness, his bare feet curling upon themselves with both fear and anticipation. He wanted to touch it. He wanted to know how blue would feel. His hand outstretched, the tips of his fingers met a smooth surface and pressed indents into them._

_**Glass** _ _[glas, glahs]:_ _**A hard brittle, non crystalline, more or less transparent substance produced by** _ _**fusion,** _ _**usually** _ _**consisting** _ _**of** _ _**mutually dissolved** _ _**silica** _ _**and** _ _**silicates** _ _**that** _ _**also** _ _**contain** _ _**soda** _ _**and** _ _**lime.** _

_Remus had seen glass before also, but never with this sort of blue. He had seen glass in the spectacles his father wore for reading and in the pitcher that water was poured from. Remus used to drink from glass as well, but that privilege was taken away from him because it had been too dangerous. He touched the glass again, relishing in the warmth that crept up his arm through the very tips of his fingers. He shivered as he flattened his whole palm against it and then began to trace the smooth wooden edges. They formed a perfect square_ _frame around the glass and then crisscrossed to form four perfectly even but smaller squares within it._

_**Window** _ _[_ _**win** _ _-doh]:_ _**such** _ _**an** _ _**opening** _ _**with** _ _**the** _ _**frame,** _ _**sashes,** _ _**and** _ _**panes** _ _**of** _ _**glass.** _

_Slowly, hesitant, Remus pressed his face to the window. He had always read about them and how different they were from how he'd imagined them to be. There were many across the house, all displaying the same blue that Remus was slowly getting attached to. It still hurt his eyes, but in a way that was so utterly pleasurable that he craved for more. More of this blue; more of this warmth. He knew; from simple knowledge, he knew that there was a kind of lock in the middle and his hands fumbled for it. First searching, then finding, he curiously pulled at the lock and moved it at various angles – left, right, up, down. Nothing he had read had ever described how to open a lock and he struggled with it, his movements getting desperate and violent as time went on and his failure built up. And then suddenly, the lock clicked and the windows flew open on their own accord and Remus was hit in the face with a large gust of wind._

_It smelled odd; dusty, warm, and so very, very thick like the air itself was clogging his nostrils ad forcing him into a violent fit of coughs. His eyes watered and he told himself that the air had twenty-point-nine-five percentage of oxygen, which was enough for a human being to breathe. There was no reason for him to feel like he was choking; no reason for his throat to burn and for his eyes to water; no reason for the darkness to creep and steal his vision from him. Remus did not want to fall into the darkness this way. Remus did not want to see the black. Remus only wanted to see the warm blue beyond this window..._

_**Sky** _ _[skahy]:_ _**the** _ _**heavens** _ _**or** _ _**firmament.** _

'Will Sirius and Harry really not visit?' Remus asked, his mouth scrunching up into a pout. He looked down at his hands; bandaged heavily unto his elbows. His fingers twisted into the sheets and he moved in his bed, feeling extremely uncomfortable within his chest.

 **Depressed** [dih- **prest** ]:  **sad** **and** **gloomy;** **dejected;** **downcast.**

Dumbledore smiled kindly. 'Do you wish to see them so much?'

Remus looked up through his eyelashes and nodded meekly. 'Perhaps they do not feel the same? I've caused so much trouble already, without meaning to. Sirius must be very displeased.' His hands tightened around the sheets, flinching slightly when Dumbledore's long, wrinkly fingers reached to gently pry them loose. His smile, like his 17.2 seconds worth of embrace always managed to comfort Remus and put his worries to rest. 'Would it be possible for me to visit them, instead? Surely, I can be relieved from this hospital?' He turned to stare through the window longingly. They had kept it open upon his request and the sky had never looked lovelier.

Dumbledore sighed and shook his head, much to Remus's disappointment. 'Remus, I must ask you to avoid stalkin…' He coughed light, 'visiting Mr. Black entirely for as long as possible. I understand it might be difficult for you, given your rather strong feelings for him, but I need you to persevere. You are strong enough, are you not?'

Remus did not want to be very strong, but he nodded regardless, not wanting to disappoint Dumbledore.

 **Reluctant** [ri- **luhk** -t _uh_ nt]:  **struggling** **in** **opposition.**

This time, Dumbledore's gentle smile turned into laughter. He ruffled Remus's hair affectionately and then leaned closer to whisper conspiratorially, 'It has been so long since we had our last lesson that I feel I must teach you something new today.' His blue eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles. 'Tell me, Remus, my boy, have you ever heard of the phrase: "absence makes the heart grow fonder"?'

 


	5. [per-mish-uhn]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus has lived for twenty five years now. Due to his incapability to emote or feel many complicated things at the same time, he has always maintained a straight face, his facial features sitting at an angle of approximately a hundred and seventy four point two d though he has practiced it many times before in front of the mirror, Remus has truly never smiled.

_Once upon a time, there was a father, just like all the fathers before him and the ones that came after. He loved his wife and he loved his children dearly; had created a life around them. There were days when he would bask in the perfection of his world – the little house he'd built with his own hands; the sliver of sunlight that peeked through his bedroom curtains in the morning; the slim body of his wife that fit into his so perfectly at night; the joyful laughter of his first born; and the soft brown curls that lay atop the head of his second born. He had been happy, but he had only understood the extent of his happiness when his body and soul had been subjected to immense pain._

_His happiness had been stripped down to the frightened wails of child. Not children, but_ _**child.** _

_His pain had not only given birth to sadness but also fear: fear of losing that last shred of his world which he had only managed to save. Some days, his fear morphed to desperation and helplessness. Some days, when he came home to see bloodied palms or bruised skin, he felt his fear grow. It escalated with every push against his son's heart, as he willed it to beat once more, and with every roll of bandage that stained red. Those were the days when he wished he could do more; wished he could enclose his son within his arms and protect him from the world. Wished for a world that was only the two of them, where no one could hurt his family or steal his child away._

_Once upon a time, there was a father._

_Once upon a time, there was a son._

_Once upon a time, there was a Remus Lupin._

* * *

_John Lupin started with the other hand, spreading Remus's fingers against his and flattening their palms together. His thumb and forefinger held Remus's index gently, as he placed the nail clipper close to the skin. He would leave no sharp edges and no dangerous lengths; not again. Remus's back felt bony against his chest and the little groove between his shoulder and neck that John peeked over felt small and hollow. His son was fragile; so, so small, despite his age._

_The little blue dictionary Remus had been reading lay near his feet and John reminded himself to get Remus a new one. This one was close to tatters; the edges already fraying and the pages yellowed. Remus only read his dictionary when he no longer had any more books to read. The shelves were threatening to give away already from the magnitude of books John had bought him over the years. Only fantasy novels though; John didn't want Remus to learn of the harsh reality of the world at such a tender age. He didn't want the real world to touch his son and taint him with their sins._

' _Why do you do this, son?' John asked, watching the brittle nail fall to the sheets. He felt sick when he noticed the blood crusted at the bottom, where he'd been unable to wash properly. 'Why do you always do this?' He felt Remus flinch as his voice rose. 'I've laid your room bare; removed all your shoelaces, replaced the glass with plastic, kept everything at minimal height. And yet, you always find a way to hurt yourself. Why?'_

_John felt Remus shrug. 'I don't know.'_

_Despite this not being the first incident, John felt his eyes sting and bile rise to the back of his throat. He would have to be more careful; take stronger precautions. He would not lose his son; he had already lost his wife and firstborn to the hands of that murderer, Fenrir Greyback. The murderer that got away; despite everything. The same murderer the police had been unable to catch and was now roaming free outside; ready to take away John's last shred of happiness and sanity. 'When you do things like this, it hurts me, Remus. It hurts me a lot more than it hurts you.'_

_Remus turned back to face him, his brows furrowed in puzzlement. 'You are hurt?' he asked, and his eyes searched John with worry, looking for wounds. 'Where?'_

' _Here,' John whispered in reply, one hand coming up to rest on the left side of his chest, right above his heart. 'It hurts here, Remus. I wish you would understand. I wish you would understand why I do the things I do; why I try so hard to protect you.'_

_Remus blinked and the innocence in his amber eyes was overwhelming._

_John sighed and ran his fingers through his son's hair, brushing it back gently. 'It's because I love you, Remus.'_

* * *

_Once upon a time, there was a father._

_He is no longer alive._

_Once upon a time, there was a Godfather._

_But not of the mafia-kind._

'Could you believe the gall of that reporter! Dressing up like that; anything for a scoop – that Rita Skeeter!'

One of the nurses nodded, her face twisting in disgust. 'It's no different than the first time when they found him, do you remember? Reporters all over the place; they had to get police warrants and there were about a million court cases. I remember one of them had even posed as his father.' The receptionist gasped in shock. 'Can you believe how insensitive they were? Especially after he had gone through a traumatising experience like finding his own father's body at his bedroom door. It's disgusting: how low people can sink.'

'Padfoot!' Harry whispered urgently when Sirius seemed frozen in place. 'Padfoot, come on!'

Sirius seemed fixed in his stupor, unable to move from his position or even stop listening to the gossip transpiring at the reception desk.  _Who?_

'Padfoot!'

'I'm glad Dumbledore made clear to the press that they shouldn't be involved this time. Poor bloke deserves a break after everything he had to go through all those years ago. Despite everything, he's still such a sweetheart, that Mr. Lup-'

'Delivery for Mr. Remus Lupin.'

The receptionist looked away from her conversation, her otherwise welcoming smile falling when her eyes fell upon the rather large pot of flowers that Sirius had placed on the green trolley. He understood that it was intimidating; the arrangement was tall enough to reach Sirius's waist and was sporting a range of extremely uncoordinated flowers. Sirius did not have money to spend on pointless bouquets; he had stolen them from his neighbour's gardens at night. Not that he would ever admit to it; he didn't want Harry picking up bad habits. In fact, he had plucked a large handful from his own garden also, so that he could look just as wronged and baffled by the incident as his neighbours.

'I'm sorry, sir, but our patient is not taking any visitors.'

Sirius pulled the black cap he had on a little lower, hoping that he didn't look too recognizable. 'This delivery has been paid for, Miss,' he tried in his best Northern accent. 'I've got strict instructions to bring it in personally. They are very important flowers, indeed.' There was a small giggle from underneath, no doubt a mockery of his acting skills. Sirius coughed loudly to cover it up. 'If you would please take me to Mr. Lupin's room, Miss…'

The receptionist, if possible, looked even more suspicious of Sirius. 'I'm afraid,' she said slowly, fixing him with a stern glare, 'I cannot allow you in, Sir. Dumbledore has strictly asked that no visitors be let in Mr. Lupin's cabin and also, he is allergic to flowers.'

Suddenly, a head of black hair popped out of the vase. 'Liar!' Harry screamed, as all the flowers fell out onto the ground below. 'Moony has a big garden of flowers! Padfoot, she's lying!' He accused with a pointed finger towards the receptionist.

Sirius groaned and slapped a hand to his forehead. 'Harry, I told you to stay inside the vase!'

'But Padfoot!' Harry protested with a petulant expression. He looked ridiculous with only his head peeking out, his chubby fingers clutching the rims of the green vase. He was obviously tip-toeing within, since Sirius had stolen/borrowed this vase only because it was slightly taller than Harry himself. 'Padfoot, she's a liar! You always punish me for lying! You should send her to the corner as well!'

For the hundredth time today, Sirius wondered why he was doing this. He looked at the receptionist, who was steadily turning red from trying to keep a straight face. She was obviously finding this entire situation utterly hilarious. 'Look, Mister, er, Padfoot?' She covered her mouth as a giggle escaped her. 'I'm sure there is a perfectly sane reason for all of this,' she gestured at the mess they'd made and Sirius could hear a few more giggles erupt behind him. Obviously, he was gathering a crowd; where was Harry without trouble? 'But I cannot let you in. The no visitor policy stands.'

Sirius sighed in disappointment. 'I understand. Thank you.' He picked up the scattered flowers off the ground and placed them on the trolley reluctantly. 'Come on, Harry,' he said, turning the trolley around by the handles. He didn't bother pulling Harry out of the vase; he was less trouble that way and Sirius reckoned that Harry would also enjoy the cart ride back home. 'Time to go home. You have school tomorrow and we need to get your homework finished. You don't want to stand outside class again, do you?'

Harry looked back at the reception longingly, eyes starting to tear.  _Uh-oh,_  Sirius thought with growing dread, right before big fat droplets started dripping down his Godson's cheeks and onto his shirt. 'I want to see Moony, Padfoot. Why won't he see me? Doesn't he like me anymore?'  _No,_ Sirius screamed internally as he watched Harry's face turn red,  _don't say things like that._ 'Padfoot, did I do something wrong? Why doesn't Moony love me anymore?' Snot dribbled down to his lips – a clear sign that Harry was not throwing a tantrum but actually worrying about Remus's lack of affection.

 _Shit,_ Sirius cursed as he found himself giving in. 'Harry, listen to Padfoot, all right. Shh…stop crying.' He wiped Harry's face with his sleeve. 'Harry, no more tears, okay…' He delved his hands into the pot, hooking them under Harry's armpits and scooping him out. 'Padfoot has a plan, okay. We'll see Moony.' Harry's green eyes grew wide. 'In a few minutes, I'm going to fall down. I don't want you to be scared, but after I fall, hold on to me really, really tight. As tight as you can and don't let go, no matter what people say; and scream as loud as you can. Remember when you saw that cockroach in the bathroom yesterday – I want you to scream like that.' Harry nodded vigorously; clearly eager to follow Sirius's instructions if it involved seeing Remus again. Sirius wished Harry would be as cooperative with his schoolwork.

When Sirius was sure, Harry had understood everything; he nodded and took a deep breath. The truly great thing about being a doctor, Sirius reckoned as he loosened his muscles voluntarily, was that he knew the symptoms of all the common illnesses you could possibly think of. Knew them well enough to be able to fake them perfectly, he thought, as he found himself falling backwards – the white marble floor getting closer and closer. The misfortunate thing about faking it, however, was that the pain that came as a consequence was very much real.

_The things I do for your son, Jamie-boy._

* * *

**Worry** **[** **wur** -ee,  **wuhr** -ee **]: t** **o** **torment** **oneself** **with** **or** **suffer** **from** **disturbing** **thoughts; fret**.

Remus had felt worry very few times in his life. In addition to his lack of ability to experience many emotions together, Remus also had difficulty in understanding the weight and consequences of a situation. He simply did not have a lot of experience worrying. He lived an easy life; one without the hustle and bustle of the city or the pressure that came from everyday tasks. He did not have an office job nor did he have any financial problems. His maid took care of his housework and his health was something that Dumbledore seemed to worry about more than him. Worry was an odd feeling to Remus. It made his heart beat fast and heat rise to his face till he broke out into sweat; the symptoms while similar to that of being in love seemed to vary very much. The varying factor, Remus theorised, was the presence of dread.

Dread, though not the kind that came in locks, was what made Remus pace back and forth in his cabin as he waited for the nurses to wheel Sirius's bed in. The nurse who had sizeable buttocks and tended to Remus on a regular basis had mentioned only moments back of Sirius's sudden loss of conscious. Remus had heard the commotion outside his cabin but had not paid much attention to it earlier, until at that very moment and had then pleaded for Sirius to be shifted beside him. Another side effect of worry, it seemed, was also the desperation to see the cause of his worry. Luckily, his regular nurse was very kind and never refused Remus of anything. She had insisted he bathe first and had then promptly gone to fetch Sirius.

'All right, Mr. Black, we've run all our tests.' There were two nurses, a male and a female, wheeling a massive white trolley bed in as a third held the door open. 'You'll be kept under observation for a few hours but you should be good to go by tonight.'

'I do hope so. It isn't anything serious, is it nurse?'

'Oh no, don't worry, dear…'

Remus stopped his anxious pacing to catch a glimpse of Sirius's face, standing on his tip toes in an attempt to see past the nurse's massive bosoms. He was rewarded for his patience, however, when she moved and Sirius was in plain sight of him – slightly pale but mostly uninjured. There was a small purple bump on the left side of his head and a much larger green bump attached to the side of his left leg. The bump was not an injury, but Harry, clutching Sirius's leg with both hands and legs in a grip that would put most men to shame. He had his face buried in the folds of Sirius's trouser pocket and both his shoes were missing.

 **Koala**  [koh- **ah** -l _uh_ ]:  **An arboreal Australian marsupial.**

'Sweetheart,' the female nurse tried kindly, bending down towards Harry's level, 'your daddy's fine now. Would you like to let go?' She sighed when the head of unruly black hair shook violently. Remus thought he saw Sirius's lips quirk up in what seemed to be a very pleased smile. 'Come on, darling, daddy's fine now.' She had barely put a hand on the child's shoulder when the air was pierced the shrillest scream Remus had ever heard. He put his hands to his ears, watching as the nurse fell back in shock and the male nurse fled with an exasperated groan of, ' _not again!'._ Oddly enough _,_ Sirius still seemed to be smiling.

 **Banshee**  [ **ban** -shee, ban- **shee** ]:  **a** **spirit** **in** **the** **form** **of** **a** **wailing** **woman** **who appears** **to** **or** **is** **heard** **by** **members** **of** **a** **family** **as** **a** **sign** **that** **one of** **them** **is** **about** **to** **die.**

Remus's ears were ringing and he felt very dizzy by the time Harry had finally decided to stop. He opened his eyes (not having realised he had closed them in the first place) and looked around blearily to find the room empty, and the door to the cabin shut firmly. He shifted his eyes to Sirius, who had both his arms folded behind his head and a grin on his face. Remus had very rarely seen anyone smile in the hospital after having fainted only seconds ago. He wondered, if like his newspaper wife, he had yet again chosen to marry someone who was slightly off in the head.

'You can let go now, Harry,' Sirius advised, shaking his left leg slightly and immediately, Harry jumped off the bed with a loud cheer and attached himself to Remus's legs instead. 'We're here.'

'Moony! We came to see you!' Harry cried, squeezing Remus's legs even tighter and causing the poor man to put both his hands out in order to steady himself. 'They wouldn't let us in, so Padfoot fell and he said that his last wish was to see you! He lied, because Padfoot's birthday is next month and everyone knows you get three wishes on your birthday!' Harry looked up and smiled widely at a very baffled Remus Lupin.

Remus looked towards Sirius, who was now resolutely avoiding his eyes. 'Why are you not looking at me?' he asked, still feeling rather confused. It was extremely overwhelming to have so many things happening at the same time within him: worry, dread, confusion, elation, love, happiness. Remus's brain was having a hard time recognising them all and he felt vaguely sea-sick. 'This room is empty, save for the beds. There is nothing else to look at.'

Sirius huffed, turning steadily pink, 'For God's sake, I'm trying to avoid an embarrassing situation!'

'Why?' Remus asked, blinking.

'Because-' Sirius spluttered and then fell silent. It was a very disappointing answer, in Remus's opinion.

'Moony, why are you wearing a dress?' Harry asked, pulling at the gown that Remus was always asked to wear whenever he was admitted to the hospital. It was extremely drafty and not quite as comfortable as his usual corduroy trousers and dark brown suspenders.

'The nurse mentioned that I have nice legs,' Remus answered truthfully. This was what his nurse had said when had asked the very same question, as she ran a hand up his rather pale and bony leg. Dumbledore had coughed loudly at that point and she had left hastily, her one eye twitching as she smiled at him. Remus thought she might have had something in her eye.

 **Wink**  [wingk]:  **to** **close** **and** **open** **one** **eye** **quickly** **as** **a** **hint** **or** **signal** **or** **with some** **sly** **meaning** **.**

Harry burst into a fit of childish giggles as he pulled up the hem of Remus's gown. 'Moony, why aren't you wearing any underpants?'

'The nurse also mentioned that I have a nice peni-'

'Harry, that's enough, lad!' Sirius interrupted, getting off the bed quickly and prying Harry away from Remus's legs. Upon a closer look, the bruise on Sirius's forehead really did look horridly painful. 'Come here and- what are you doing?' He asked as one of Remus's hands reached to touch the swell of skin curiously. He winced when Remus's fingers made contact. 'Oi, don't-'

Whatever Sirius was about to say never came out; grey eyes watching the movement of Remus's hand as it traced his injury gently. It  _hurt_. Remus did not understand why it hurt, but the knowledge of Sirius's pain brought him pain deep within his chest. He wanted it to go away; he wanted to erase the purple stain that tainted Sirius's forehead so horridly and make it better again. His fingers moved down to Sirius's cheekbone, mapping the slight arch and then dip to his hollowed cheeks. The stubble on his chin was rough, which was odd, because Sirius's chin was always very well kept. Remus knew this because he always liked to stare at Sirius's face for long periods of time. When Sirius was not with him, Remus would close his eyes and imagine his face to the very last detail. Remus was good at imagining.

He looked into Sirius's grey eyes in questioning worry, wondering if there were any more injuries that he couldn't see. The feeling of dread was coming back again as he noticed the deep circles beneath Sirius's eyes, mimicking the bruise on his forehead.

'Don't look at me like that,' Sirius added gruffly, breaking eye contact. His hand reached up to slap Remus's away, but then suddenly changed its route and grabbed Remus painfully by the wrist instead. 'Oi, what is this?' He asked eyes widening as he looked upon Remus's wrist up to his elbow. He pushed the sleeve of Remus's gown all the way up to his arm pits, his expression turning steadily horrified.

Remus did not understand.

'Is this a joke?' Sirius's hands scrabbled with the collar of Remus's gown next, his hands running over the sides of Remus's neck and collar bone. He inspected Remus's other hand, pushed away the material to look at his chest, his legs, even his back. Remus stood dutifully still, sharing confused looks with Harry who was standing on the side and watching Sirius act quite odd. Harry was sucking on his thumb again. Remus vaguely wondered what he was being searched for, since there was nothing he could really carry on him in his current state of dress; the gown did not have any pockets.

 **Molest** [m _uh_ - **lest** ]:  **to assault sexually.**

'Lupin, what is all this?' Sirius demanded with a hardened glare, clutching both Remus's hands by the wrists tightly. 'What-'

'Marks left by healed wounds, sores, or burns,' Remus explained, finally understanding the reason behind Sirius's frantic assault on his body. He was only slightly disappointed; while molestation by theory was not a very pleasant experience, Remus had briefly enjoyed it. ' _Scars,'_ he made clear, when it seemed like Sirius had not quite grabbed Remus's well defined explanation of the white lines that crisscrossed his skin.

'I know what they are!' Sirius spat, his brows furrowing and his hold tightening on Remus's wrists. 'What I want to know is who did this to you? These aren't recent; some of them look years old and there isn't a single part of your body that isn't marred by one.' His thumb traced the nearest scar that ran a vertical line from the inside of Remus's elbow to his palms. 'Remus, did anybody hurt you before; maybe when you were younger?'

 **Shame**  [sheym]:  **a fact or circumstance bringing disgrace or regret.**

Suddenly, Remus did not want to talk to Sirius anymore. Remus did not want him to be here anymore. Harry could stay, because it was clear by the way Harry was now busy swinging from the curtains that he did not understand the weight of Sirius's questions. Harry did not understand how uncomfortable Remus was feeling at the moment. 'I hurt me,' Remus admitted, looking down and pulling his hands away from Sirius's grip. Suddenly, he felt the hospital gown they'd put him in to be too short; too revealing. No one ever asked him these questions anymore, not even Dumbledore.

' _Why do you do this, son?'_

'Why?'

' _I don't know.'_

Remus shrugged. 'I don't know.'

'That's not an answer.'

' _When you do things like this, it hurts me, Remus. It hurts me a lot more than it hurts you.'_

'I used to get upset,' Remus frowned and wrapped his arms around himself. It wasn't his fault, Dumbledore had told him many, many times. It was never his fault; he had had no control over the despair he sometimes felt. Anyone would have caved under such circumstances, Dumbledore had mentioned when they had first met. It was  _human._

'Is this to do with your claustrophobia?' Sirius asked gently. His face looked sad – eyes and lips taking a downturn; though Remus did not understand why. There was no reason for his sadness; it was a thing of the past and Dumbledore always told Remus to learn from the past, not to dwell on it.

 **Claustrophobia** [klaw-str _uh_ - **foh** -bee- _uh_ ]:  **a** **n** **abnormal** **fear** **of** **being** **in** **enclosed** **or** **narrow** **places.**

Remus was not scared of narrow places. His bathroom was quite narrow; despite his protests to the housing contractors. Remus was scared of never being able to get out. He was scared of the person that came out of him when he was trapped and helpless; when every single exit was locked in and closed down. He was terrified of the thing he became; the violence it brought on as it clawed and bit at Remus's flesh, pushed against the doors in frustration, and howled its pain till it pierced the air.

 **Monster**  [ **mon** -ster]:  **any** **creature** **so** **ugly** **or** **monstrous** **as** **to** **frighten** **people.**

'Your windows are always left open,' Sirius pointed out to where Remus's bed had been dragged close to the windows so that he had plain view of the sky. Remus loved the sky; loved how blue it was. 'Harry mentioned that you're always in your garden and that your doors are always open. _Which,'_ Sirius warned, looking back at an abashed Harry and wiggling his finger, 'does  _not_ mean you can break an entry whenever you please.'

'Moony likes to play, Padfoot,' Harry replied, as he turned upside down and looked through between his legs. It seemed that Harry also had a serious inability to keep still; swinging his arms, twisting his legs, skipping across the beds, and just about touching everything within reach. 'He likes to draw with me and he even read a story to me once. Moony is really good with stories.'

Remus  _was_  very good with stories.

Sirius sighed, rubbing his temple and then wincing when his fingers brushed over the bruise. On impulse, Remus's hands came up to aid but were quickly slapped away. 'Look, Moon-Remus,' he corrected himself, 'what I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry for what I did to you. I honestly didn't mean for you to get hurt and I wish I could take it back, but I can't. But I  _can_ help. I can help you overcome your fears and I can…' He shrugged, as if confused with what else he could do.

Remus hoped Sirius wasn't also scared of the thing within him; the monster did not always come out. In fact, Remus's monster hadn't come out in over two years. He always took care to control the monster; to never hurt anyone, especially after that time with Dumbledore. 'I have never hurt anybody,' he tried to reassure nonetheless, feeling that it was important for Sirius to know. He did not want Sirius to think less of him. He had read that it was very important to make a very good impression if he wanted his date to fall in love with him and marry him. So far, he had not had much success in his rather short hospital dress.

'It's  _you_  getting hurt that I'm worried about,' Sirius shot back and then looked away, as if not having wanted to say this at all.

'Padfoot, you can just do what you do with me,' Harry advised helpfully, going round and round the deep green visitor chair. Remus felt himself get dizzy from staring too long. 'Remember when I hurt my knee and you kissed it better? And then when Ron bit my finger and you kissed it better? And then when I fell from the sofa and you kissed it better?'

'Does it work?' Remus inquired curiously. He had never heard of this remedy and he was fairly well read.

Harry nodded enthusiastically. 'It  _never_  hurts after that!'

 **Revelation** [rev- _uh_ - **ley** -sh _uh_ n]:  **s** **omething** **revealed** **or** **disclosed,** **especially** **a** **striking disclosure,** **as** **of** **something** **not** **before** **realised.**

'Harry, that doesn't-oi, what are you doing?' Sirius cried, his eyes widening and his feet shuffling backwards in panic.

'Kissing it better,' Remus explained as he leaned closer and pressed his lips to Sirius's open ones.

 **Yum**  [yuhm]:  **used** **to** **express** **enjoyment** **or** **satisfaction in taste.**

* * *

Sirius was over staying his welcome, he knew this. Not only him, but the entire staff of Mungo's knew this. They might not have figured out that he had been faking his dramatic faint in the middle of the hospital halls, but not even Sirius could will his body to conjure up a disease he clearly did not have. The nurses had informed him that except for the blossoming bruise on his forehead, he was fit enough to go home and work the next day. He was stalling on purpose; fussing over Harry as bed time drew nearer and the flow of nurses tending to Remus declined.

He should have left; Sirius should have left hours ago once he'd fulfilled Harry's wish of visiting Remus. Sirius should have definitely left the minute he'd felt Remus's lips against his, so impossibly soft and moist. He should have left when the nurse had interrupted them with an awkward cough and the announcement of cake, but then Harry had seemed so excited at the prospect of sweets that he couldn't have possibly gone. And then Remus had started drawing and then there had been those programs on the telly, and then they had come to take out some of Remus's stitches, and Sirius couldn't possibly have had the bloke go through that alone.

Sirius pulled the bed covers over Harry, wondering what he was doing with himself. Had it really been that long since he'd been laid that he was dwelling so much on one stupid kiss? One innocent press of lips, when Sirius had had about a million in back alleys and broom cupboards (though none recently). But that wasn't it, was it? The problem was that Sirius had never been kissed like  _that._

' _He doesn't understand how else to express himself rather than to say it upfront, but I assure you, his feelings are true.'_

Sirius touched his lips softly.

The intensity of Remus's feelings was terrifying.

'He does not look like trouble when he is asleep,' Remus commented over Sirius's shoulder, startling him. Remus poked the side of Harry's face experimentally. 'He looks like you.'

Sirius wasn't sure if that was a compliment. Of course Harry looked like him; the Blacks and Potters have interbred for years now and somewhere along the lines, their features must have merged through. In his younger years, Sirius had been told many times that he was the perfect embodiment of trouble. 'You look like trouble too, asleep or otherwise,' Sirius commented, looking back and then moving away when he found their faces too close. Images of their shared kiss flashed through his mind, and he felt wariness and irritation rising within him.

Remus frowned, touching his face curiously. 'The nurse said I looked very handsome.'

Sirius raised an eyebrow. 'Is this the same nurse who was complimenting your legs?'

Remus nodded in affirmation. 'She is very kind. She offers to bathe me thrice a day.'

Sirius snorted. 'Kindness has nothing to do with it. I would wear trousers from now on, if I were you.'

'Do you not like my legs?'

Sirius found himself blushing far too often these days. Since when did he turn into a school girl anyway? He willed his eyes to look ahead, unnecessarily smoothing back Harry's hair. 'I never looked,' Sirius lied, even though he  _had._ In fact, he had also looked when Harry had been pulling up the hem of Remus's hospital gown and giggling over the fact that the man hadn't worn any pants underneath. Sirius did not think it was as amusing. In fact, he found it very hard to think at all. 'Look, Moon-Remus, damn it! I don't even know why you have that ridiculous nick name.' He took a deep breath and told himself not to lose his temper, as he tried his best to explain, 'Remus, I don't know how to put it kindly, because honestly, you don't seem to be getting the hint no matter how I put it. 'We  _can't_  be together.'

'Why not?' Remus almost looked petulant saying this.

Sirius couldn't even believe he had the guts to be asking why not. 'We're both men!'

'I've never seen your penis.'

Sirius spluttered. 'What?'

'The mistake most humans make is that they pass judgment even before considering all the facts; Dumbledore explained this to me when I questioned him about my father.' Remus smiled, as if remembering something rather interesting. 'There are many aspects that make up the male species; but I would expect that your genitalia would be a very decisive factor. I am a man,' He pointed towards his groin. 'Are you? If I cannot see the facts, I cannot confirm your statement.'

Sirius found his head threatening to explode, until he caught the sly smile on Remus's face and realised that the man wasn't  _that_  daft or naive.  _Is he flirting with me?_ 'Women can have penises as well sometimes,' Sirius informed unnecessarily before shaking his head. 'Which is beside the point. What I'm trying to say is that I don't have time for love right now; and I don't need Harry dealing with the consequences of a gay relationship either. Also,' Sirius held Remus by the shoulders, making sure they were looking eye to eye. 'I'm not interested in dating you.'

Hurt. Even though, Remus did not have a large range of outward expressions, Sirius could clearly make out the hurt. It made him feel dirty and horrid. 'Is it because of the monster in me?' Remus asked, clear amber eyes searching Sirius for a reason that he was never going to find.

It took Sirius a minute and a half to realise what Remus was talking about. 'No!' he exclaimed, flustered. It really was easier for Sirius to be rude and brash. He wasn't good at being nice; already, he was failing horribly at it. 'No, look, that isn't a monster. You shouldn't think of it that way; you've just got a bit of a… _problem_. There are a lot of people who suffer from it and I'm sure Dumbledore will find a way to help you through at least a little bit of it. There is really  _nothing_ wrong with you. It's  _me_.'

'But you are beautiful.'

And again, Sirius found his breath caught in his throat.  _How,_ Sirius asked himself, did Remus say such complicated things so easily? It was as if he had no filter, no fears holding him back; as if he worked on the thoughts of his heart alone. 'That's not…I'm…' He looked away, unable to bear the weight of Remus's stare, and busied himself with Harry. 'This is getting nowhere. I should just get going,' he muttered softly, picking up Harry and feeling only slightly comforted when he felt the familiar weight of his Godson's head rest on his shoulder. 'Harry has school tomorrow and I have work.'

'I can be work.' Remus came in front of him, blocking his path. 'I am injured,' he showed the deep scars on his arms and shoulders. 'Your job is to heal the injured. Then you must not leave your work behind.'

Sirius gritted his teeth. 'Remus, you need to learn when to stop!' he spat back angrily. 'Your hard headedness is what got you in the hospital in the first place. I'm trying to be nice to you and letting you down gently, but it's as if you have no consideration for my feelings at all!' He pushed past the other man, not looking back despite reservations. Patience had never been Sirius's forte and Remus was stretching him painfully thin. 'I'm not some kind of property that you can own as you will or some bint you found in the newspaper to marry! You can't just follow me everywhere and invade my privacy, or just kiss me without my permission. I'm-'

'Can I kiss you?'

Sirius's jaw threatened to touch the floor.

'I am considering your feelings and asking your permission,' Remus provided thoughtfully. He brought himself in front of Sirius once again and Sirius was very much aware of how close they were standing. Their thighs were touching and had it not been for Harry in between, their shoulders and chests would be too. Remus rested a hand on Harry's back as he leaned in and touched their noses together, warm breath smelling of chocolate cake. His eyes were impossibly amber as they bore into Sirius's, and Sirius found himself remembering the softness of the last kiss they'd shared. A press of lips, that's all it had been; and yet, he'd felt it in the very tips of his toes and in every beat of his heart. Grey eyes fluttered close, almost in anticipation of the question he knew was going to come. 'Can I kiss you?'

Their lips brushed and just for a second, Sirius found his breath hitch and brain shut down. 'No,' he whispered and pushed away, his feet feeling heavy as he dragged them backwards and away from Remus. 'No.' He swallowed, willing his steps to speed up and feeling the door to be impossibly far.

He had to leave. Beyond this room was safety and stability: just him, Harry, and the life he'd worked so hard to build for them.

'NO.'

 


	6. [trapd]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus has lived for twenty five years now. Due to his incapability to emote or feel many complicated things at the same time, he has always maintained a straight face, his facial features sitting at an angle of approximately a hundred and seventy four point two d though he has practiced it many times before in front of the mirror, Remus has truly never smiled.

' _Good morning, Remus. How are you today?'_

_Dumbledore was undeterred when Remus did not answer. In the little time he had spent with the boy, Dumbledore had quickly learned that it had very little to do with hostility and more to do with incapability. He had taken the case upon himself. For almost a year, he had dedicated his every waking hour to nursing this child back to health and full consciousness. Many had asked him why and Dumbledore had been ashamed to admit his failure as a doctor. He had known John Lupin well but had never understood him or his circumstances completely. The result of his failure sat beside him in the hospital gardens, bare footed and dressed in blue striped pyjamas. The child's eyes were bloodshot from strain but in the three days he had spent fully awake, not once had he moved his gaze away from the sky._

' _The nurse told me that you protested yet again to being inside?' Dumbledore inquired, his long fingers gently reaching out to inspect the side of the child's neck where deep scratches marred his skin. On the very first day, they had removed all sharp objects from the vicinity but had quickly learned that the solution was as simple as keeping all the doors and windows open at all times. Still, there were things you couldn't do without privacy. 'You cannot sleep outside, Remus; it will make you sick.'_

' _My father will make me better,' Remus replied, not taking his eyes off the sky. His voice was soft and scratchy, unused from the strain Dumbledore was putting on it by making him speak so much. 'He always makes me better. Because when I am sick, it hurts him,' the boy pointed at his heart, 'here.' For the first time since they'd met, Remus Lupin looked at Dumbledore; his amber eyes clear and innocent. His words, while flowing clearly, came out measured as if he gave them serious thought before speaking. Like an infant, Dumbledore realised. 'But perhaps you could talk to my father? I do not want to be inside again. I am healthy enough to be outside now, am I not?'_

_Dumbledore nodded and smiled kindly. He did not let the dread in his heart show through as he breached the subject he had been avoiding for a month now. In theory, Remus was strong enough to deal with the trauma, but Dumbledore had grown extremely attached to the child in their past few months together. He had never had children of his own, but Dumbledore felt that his attachment to Remus Lupin would be akin to the feeling. He felt cruel as he spoke, 'Remus, have you perhaps noticed that your father has not come to visit you yet?'_

_Remus looked back to the sky. 'I have and I think that perhaps he has lost his way. I have never been here before. Have you told him where he can find me?' He blinked and shook his head; an internal thought passing by perhaps. 'He promised me a new book.'_

' _Remus,' Dumbledore tried again, his words failing him severely, 'do you remember the day when you fell? When you walked out on your own?'_

_Remus nodded in confirmation. 'I saw the sky. It was blue.'_

_Dumbledore felt his lips turn at the simplicity of the sentiment. 'Yes, you saw the sky, but you also saw your father. Do you remember? He was at your bedroom door.'_

' _He would not get up.'_

' _Yes.'_

' _I called many times.'_

' _Yes,' Dumbledore answered again patiently._

' _He always comes when I am hurt, but he would not get up,' Remus continued, his brows now furrowed. Dumbledore let the silence between his sentences stew. 'I tried many times. Then I went downstairs. I fell.' He fingered the faded bruises on his arms. They weren't from his fall, but from his body's struggle to cope. 'But I saw the sky.' He smiled again, still looking up at said sky._

' _Remus, do you understand why your father would not get up?' Dumbledore took Remus's silence as his lack of understanding. 'Son, your father was ill. Very, very ill…'_

' _Like me?' Remus asked._

_Dumbledore shook his head. 'Much worse; his heart was not working very well for a long, long time. And then, that day, it stopped working at all. Do you understand what I'm trying to say, Remus?' He put a hand on the boy's shoulder, squeezing it firmly. 'Your father is dead. Do you know what that means?'_

' _N_ _o_ _longer_ _living;_ _deprived_ _of_ _life,' the child answered automatically and though Dumbledore had expected it, he was still shocked by it._

_Shocked by the boy that sat before him._

_The boy that understood nearly every word in the dictionary but did not understand the gravity behind them. He did not understand the weight of his words or the reason behind an emotion; he did not understand propriety or something as simple as how to express himself. He did not know how to cry or how to laugh; it wasn't as if he was stoic, but somehow, every display of his emotion seemed different from how one would normally expect someone to behave. Just like a baby just born, he was yet to learn the ways of the world._

' _Remus,' Dumbledore's voice softened as a deep feeling of despair washed over him, 'your father is not coming back for you. He still loves you very much, but he is not coming back. He cannot.' He swallowed, losing his usual calm composure as he watched Remus's eyes turn to him. He could see the flecks of gold in his iris clear brighten as comprehension began to set in. Dumbledore took a deep breath and steeled himself as he delivered the final blow, 'Your father is **dead,** Remus. He is gone  **forever.** '_

_Dumbledore had treated over fifteen thousand patients in his career of fifty years as a doctor. He had given over five thousand lectures in universities all over the United Kingdom and had a failing memory that came with old age. Yet, he knew that that day would be burned forever in his mind as his worst. Even five years later, the inhuman wail that followed his crushing words would sometimes ring in his ears and haunt his worst nightmares._

_Like an animal, Remus had screamed and turned on himself in grief. He had curled up, his body shrinking within it as his teeth and nails sunk into his own flesh. Dumbledore would still remember the colour of the boy's blood, bright red, as it stained the grass underneath; from his wounds and the damage he had done to his fragile throat. Dumbledore would also remember the flurry of patients and nurses and their screams of concerns. Mostly, he would remember the relief he had felt as he sank down the syringe into Remus's arm and watched him fall into an involuntary sleep. It granted the child oblivion, if only for a few hours._

* * *

'And then the teacher yelled at Ron for putting ink on her hair and everybody in class laughed.'

Sirius felt like a complete prat, hiding behind the door of his own living room. He didn't even know what he was doing here when he should have been helping Harry prepare for his finals (alphabets, colouring, and numbers), and then lying back and enjoying an afternoon off of work.

'Padfoot!' Harry called, his head peeking out from the side. He was leaning quite heavily on the other side of the door, threatening to crush Sirius's extremely fragile bits. Sirius groaned, in both pain and annoyance. To be ousted and found by a five year old; Sirius had sunk extremely low in the world of hide and seek. 'Moony wants to talk to you.'

Sirius hid further inside the crook between the door and the wall. In his head, he thought that if he squeezed himself far enough, he might truly disappear. 'Tell him I'm not here,' he muttered, not meeting Harry's eyes.

Two minutes later, Sirius heard Harry proclaim quite loudly, 'Padfoot says he's not here.' Had there been more space to move, Sirius would have slapped his forehead. Instead, he was left to wonder where in his upbringing he had gone wrong. 'He is standing behind the door. I don't know why; maybe he is looking for his keys; Padfoot always loses his keys.' Why, Sirius wondered, was he still standing behind the bloody door? He had obviously been found out and was currently being ridiculed over the phone. 'I'll visit you on Monday, I promise. Mrs. Figg always asks me to stand outside when I don't do my homework. I'll come then.' Sirius internally reminded himself to check all of Harry's schoolwork thoroughly. 'Mhm, really? There should be a Hippogriff, Moony! All stories need one! You think so?' Sirius wondered idly what on Earth his Godson was talking about; obviously Harry was being influenced by Remus's jibberish and lack of common sense. 'Okay. I miss you too! Bye!'

Sirius sighed in relief and came out, feeling every bit like an idiot. He watched as Harry put the receiver down and jumped off his stool; still too short to reach the phone by himself. The stool had been nailed permanently to the floor after Harry had fallen from it and had needed stitches across his right eyebrow. Harry had cried a lot; enough to scare Sirius into shortening the hem of all of his Godson's trousers. 'How is he: Moon- _Remus,_ I mean?' he asked, trying to sound nonchalant as possible as he walked to the dining table and busied himself with a half-eaten piece of bacon.

Harry looked at him curiously. 'Moony says he has the sniffles.'

'I see,' Sirius nodded, still trying to seem disinterested. How the mighty have fallen, he thought, that now he had to pretend to be heartless in front of a five year old. 'Is it very bad?'

Harry shook his head, scratching his nose idly. 'No. He says he always gets sick like this because he has a weak im-immu-iguana system.'

Sirius hummed, piling up the dishes slowly into the sink. Sniffles and a weak iguana system were hardly a cause for concern. Sirius couldn't care less. He wasn't worried at all. He definitely wasn't washing his dishes just to occupy his mind with things other than Remus Lupin. Of course, Lupin got sick often. How could they even let a bloke like him live on his own; he was barely capable of feeding himself and Sirius half expected him to fall into a random ditch at some point. It was ridiculous!

Sirius scrubbed the plate in his hand harder.

'He says he misses you very much, Padfoot,' Harry said, now pushing a finger into his nose. He quickly pulled it out upon Sirius's warning glare and wiped it finger on his trousers. 'Moony will come see us when he gets better, he promised! Moony likes cake, Padfoot. Do you think we could have cake when he comes over?'

'Go get your school bag, Harry.' Sirius replied, a little too harshly. 'You have tests tomorrow, don't you? Don't you want to go to the big boy school next year with Ron?' Then again, Ronald Weasley was not the brightest cookie in the box. 'Or Hermione?' He added as an afterthought, remembering the nosy little girl he'd met in the Parent Teacher's Meet last year. She had asked Sirius why he looked like a pretty girl, despite the day old stubble gracing his chin. She had also commented on how much prettier he was than Ron's mommy, earning a strong glare from Mrs. Weasley who thought Sirius's earring and long hair was a bad influence on Harry and unacceptable parenting.

Bitch.

'Do I have to study, Padfoot?' Harry whined, though he was already dragging his feet upstairs. Sirius did not have to say anything; Harry knew the routine. If he studied well and did not complain too much, Sirius let him have ice cream after dinner. If he didn't, Sirius ate the ice cream all by himself while Harry watched and wailed.

Take that, Weasley.

Unacceptable parenting, his arse.

'Padfoot, my bag is heavy.'

Sirius took Harry's school bag with one hand, wiping the other on a kitchen towel. 'Go on then, have a seat. We'll just revise everything really quickly, all right. I know you're very smart, just like your Padfoot.' He grinned and sat down, patting on the empty chair beside him. It took him by surprise when suddenly, Harry decided he did not want to sit on the chair and began climbing up Sirius's lap instead. 'Harry, what-' he watched as Harry scaled the length of his leg much like a man would the Himalayas, clutching Sirius's trousers within small fists as leverage.

'I don't want to go to school tomorrow, Padfoot,' Harry said, turning so that his back was pressed to Sirius's chest. He wiggled to get comfortable and Sirius, despite feeling like a human chair, wrapped an arm around his Godson's body out of instinct. It still amazed him how small Harry was. 'Mrs. Figg said that we have to draw our mummies in the test.'

'Oh.' Sirius felt his throat tighten and a slight dread set in. It wasn't as if he hadn't anticipated a situation such as this arising; it was just that he hadn't yet prepared for it. He had hoped that Harry wouldn't ask any questions about his parents until he was a lot older. It wasn't as if Sirius kept anything secret; they visited James and Lily as often as they possibly could and Sirius always tried his best to explain the car accident whenever Harry asked. His Godson knew he didn't have any parents, but Sirius had assumed that he was at an age where he did not understand what that meant. He had hoped that his love would be enough for Harry.

'Moony said he didn't have a mummy either,' Harry murmured, swinging his legs. 'He said that when people ask him for a mummy, he always draws his daddy instead.' He turned back, big green eyes looking at Sirius hopefully. 'Are you my daddy, Padfoot?'

 _I'm sorry, Jamie-boy._ 'Of course I am,' Sirius smiled, dropping a kiss to Harry's nose. 'I do everything a daddy does, don't I? I take you to school and I buy you toys, and I love you more than all the cookies in the world!' He tried to swallow the lump in his throat that told him that he had no right to be Harry's father. Harry already had a father. Harry's father was dead. 'So you just do what Moony says and draw me whenever someone asks you to draw your mummy, all right?'

Harry nodded thoughtfully. 'If you're my daddy, why don't I ever call you daddy?' He asked, looking up again.

 _Because I can't do that to your father, love._ 'Padfoot's a much more fun name, don't you think?' Sirius tried as an excuse, plastering the biggest smile he could muster for his Godson. 'How many of your friends get to call their dads Padfoot? Only you. Because you're special.' Harry's smile widened at that and Sirius felt relief creeping up the edges of his worry. 'So if anyone in class makes fun of you or asks you why you don't have a mummy, tell them it's because only brilliantly special little boys like you get Padfoots.'

Harry giggled as Sirius tickled him, obviously placated. It was easy now, but Sirius wondered what would happen when Harry was older? When would be the next time Harry asked his question and what would Sirius say then? 'Was Moony's daddy cool like you, Padfoot?' Harry asked, still writhing like a little goldfish and chuckling from the residue of Sirius's tickles. 'Was he your friend?'

Sirius laughed. 'Moony's dad is much older than me, love. I've never met him.'

Harry shook his head. 'You met him, Padfoot! Maybe you don't remember! Look,' He reached for his school bag, fiddling around with the little mess of books inside before pulling out a worn old photograph. 'See, that's him!'

'Who gave you this picture, Harry?' Sirius asked, already knowing the answer. Harry must have been fiddling in Sirius's trunk again; the one sitting in the attic, full of things that Sirius had been unable to part from. It had old photo albums, class notes that he and James had shared, gifts that Lily had bought for him the day he had been disowned from the Black family – they were all little treasures that Sirius sometimes drowned himself in when James and Lily's Death Anniversary drew nearer and the pain of his loss became close to unbearable. 'Did you find it in the attic?' Sirius didn't have to look at Harry's guilty expression for affirmation. 'I told you not to go there alone, Harry. You could have hurt yourself!' He hadn't seen this picture in years; in fact, he and James weren't even supposed to be in this picture.

' _Come on, there'll be free food and **seniors.** We always crash these seminars, Padfoot, it will be like breaking tradition.'_

' _But look at the title, Prongs: **The Future of Healthcare.** Even the title puts me to sleep; I can't imagine any amount of sexy seniors could make up for the utter bore that we're going to be subjected to for an entire hour!'_

' _I heard Evans talking; apparently, the bloke hardly ever gives lectures and never stays for very long either. He's bloody hard to get; very elusive and keeps to himself 's coming all the way from Lewes for this as a favour to McGonagall.'_

' _ **Lewes**? He's probably elusive because he's shit.'_

Like always, he and James had sat at the very back, chatting up any passably attractive senior they could find and piling their plates with more food than they could possible manage. James had even stuffed some in his bag, earning disgusted looks from some of the other students there; not that they had ever cared. Sirius hadn't listened to a single thing said in between; but had hooted and whistled inappropriately every time John Lupin had said the word "disease" or "coronary". The glares and shushes he had received had only fuelled his desire to be more of a nuisance. In hindsight, Sirius realised he had been an utter wanker in school.

He looked down at the picture again, Sirius and James both placed at the very front because they hadn't quite achieved their full growth spurts yet. Not that it stopped Sirius from snogging the Captain of the footy team.

' _Oi, you two, where do you think you're going? Didn't you hear the announcement? Pictures are mandatory for all attendees. Dr. Lupin doesn't have time to spare, so hurry up!'_

If Sirius looked close enough, the man in the middle did look extraordinarily like Remus. His appearance was haggard. Sirius snorted to himself, thinking that any man having to raise a child like Remus Lupin  _would_  look like that. Old age had clearly set into the corners of the John Lupin's eyes and the sharp lines around his mouth; but the light brown hair and the rounded jaw line was unmistakable. Sirius tried to remember more about him; maybe the way he spoke or the way he carried himself, but found himself coming up with blanks. Celebrated Doctor of 1977; Sirius wondered how a man like John Lupin could give birth to a bloke as daft as Remus Lupin. Surely, something worthwhile should have passed through his genes?

'Moony says his daddy was the best in the world!' Harry exclaimed, jolting Sirius out of his thoughts. 'He said that his daddy bought him gifts all the time and played with him all day sometimes.' He watched as Sirius put the photo aside on the table. 'And at night, even though the doors were closed, his daddy always put a light in the room to scare away the monsters, just like you, Padfoot!' Harry smiled brightly and jumped off Sirius's lap, clearly in a much better mood. 'But no one else likes Moony's daddy.'

'Don't say things like that, Harry. People are different, but that doesn't mean they're not good.' Thoughts of Remus flashed his mind, but Sirius shook it off. 'Haven't I always told you to be nice to everyone, no matter who they are?'

'Moony said that everyone was horrible to his daddy, Padfoot,' Harry insisted. 'He said that no one gave his daddy a chance, except that old man in your clinic! The man with white candy floss on his face!'

Dumbledore?

Sirius frowned.

* * *

'Dr. Black, should I call in your next patient?'

Sirius looked up from his file, his hand stopping midway and leaving a large ink smudge on his report. It did not help that his hand writing was already illegible to begin with and that he was also very much left handed. 'Sure,' he muttered distractedly, trying to clean out the smudge with one hand while accepting the patient file from Sarah with the other. 'It isn't old Mrs. Berkley again, is it? I swear, she has more allergies than mutts have fleas. If I have to give her another emergency shot…'

Sarah laughed. She was the nicer of the two receptionists that switched shifts within the clinic, though he might be slightly biased since the incident with Remus proclaiming his love for Sirius in this very room. 'It's not Mrs. Berkley, Doctor, though I suppose that poor woman would be dead by now, if not for you.' She collected the previous report from Sirius and tucked it under her arm. 'Though I thought you'd be interested to know that Mr. Lupin is here to remove the last of his stitches.' She shot him a sly, suggestive smile, and Sirius suddenly liked her a lot less. 'He's in Dumbledore's office, but I expect he'll want to propose, I mean,  _see_  you again.'

Her giggles were enough to bring forth a tick on Sirius's forehead. He glared at her, purposefully banging his file against the desk noisily to express his displeasure. 'The next patient,  _please,_ Sarah.' His face twisted in annoyance when she continued to giggle, even as she was leaving. Obviously, Lupin had turned Sirius into a running joke.

Ugh. Why was he even thinking of Lupin again?

'Sarah,' Sirius called out, despite his better judgment. He waited for her to turn around, debating within himself and then wondering if it really was any of his business. Taking a deep breath, he asked the question that had been niggling his thoughts for the past three days. 'Have you ever heard of John Lupin?'

Immediately, Sarah's expression soured. The smile on her face turned into an ugly frown and the hatred that blazed in her eyes was enough to take Sirius by surprise. 'Who hasn't heard of John Lupin?' She practically spat out. 'Bastard of a man…'

Sirius frowned. It wasn't his concern. If he wanted to rid his life of Remus Lupin, then it was better for him not to ask questions. His marauding days were long gone; he was no longer a child roaming the halls of his school and looking for secret passageways and cupboards. 'Did he work here; in the clinic, I mean?'

'Mungo's,' Sarah replied shortly. 'We should have known about him from the start. A big doctor like him in a little town like Lewes; it should have been questionable from the start. We were so happy to have someone like him with us; boasting the best Cardiologist in Britain and what not.' She snorted. 'Now we can boast about having had the biggest bastard in Britain.'

What did John Lupin  _do,_ Sirius wondered, his interest piquing. What could John Lupin possibly have done to garner this much hate? He looked back at Sarah who seemed to have gone off in a rant now, her face turning steadily red. Just like all the other residents Sirius had met, there was a fierce protectiveness for Remus in Sarah's eyes; a protectiveness born from the knowledge and understanding of circumstances. Even though she hadn't admitted it yet, Sirius  _knew_  it had something to do with Remus and nothing to do with malpractice like he'd initially thought.

'It's only because of Dumbledore that we keep quiet,' Sarah went on, the files in her hands clutched so tightly that they were folding over. 'Only because of Dumbledore's influence that the reputation of our town didn't get pulled down by the press! Even within us, very few people know the actual truth! But, we saw him, Mr. Black. We found him and fought for him, even when Mungo's said it was just easier to release him from his misery. Like an animal that needs to be put down!'

Sirius didn't say anything. If he opened his mouth now, he would never know. Her outburst was purely emotional and he needed her to remain uninterrupted. Every bone in his body crossed itself in hopes that her brain wouldn't kick in in at the wrong time; that she wouldn't realise how far she was going with what was clearly information that was meant to be locked away. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, every hair on his body on end. It was coming; he knew and his silence coaxed it. Yet, as much as part of him wanted to finally hear the truth, there was another that was dreading it. Instinctively, he knew this would change everything.

There was a soft knock at his door, but Sirius ignored it. His heart was beating fast now, and all he could truly concentrate on was the sound of blood pounding in his ears and Sarah's voice.

'John Lupin was a monster!'

From the corner of his eyes, he saw the door open and a head of familiar light brown hair pop in. Sirius felt his throat dry. 'Sarah, stop,' he croaked out, his eyes widening in panic as he realised his voice wasn't loud enough to carry through to her. 'Sarah!' He tried again urgently, his eyes glancing quickly between the door and her. 'Sarah, enough!'

'Locking his own son in a room for eighteen years! I hope that man burns in hell!'

Sirius could not stop looking at Remus; the shock in his amber eyes and the twist of grief stark in his expression.'Remus, I-' Sirius could feel something heavy settle to the bottom of his stomach; something akin to guilt. He shouldn't have asked. He knew he shouldn't have asked. 'I-'

* * *

_Sirius grit his as a few more girls went giggling loudly past him, shooting him coy looks that they thought was attractive. Sirius glared at them when he noticed Harry wriggling restlessly in his little carry-cot. The library had become their little sanctuary; just Sirius and Harry in between the shelves that held books about Fourteenth Century Medical Practices. Sirius came here with his studies because he knew no one else did; not in this corner of the library. He came here for peace; to build a future for both of them and a cocoon of safety._

_Sirius was not stupid. He knew perfectly well why those girls were passing by this section for the fifth time in a row. He knew why they chose to wore the shortest skirt imaginable to the library and pretended to have their pencils or books accidently fall, so that they could bend and pick them up. This was not the first time this has happened and Sirius knew it would not be the last. It didn't seem to matter that Sirius's attitude was standoffish at best and hostile at worst. It didn't matter that Sirius wasn't interested in any of the girls that tried again and again to proposition him or lure him in. Just like everybody else, they only saw his exterior: his face and the expensive clothes he wore. They were clothes he could no longer afford._

_Medical School wasn't easy with a child to take care of. Sirius often left Harry with his grandparents during the day and then rushed back home as soon as his classes were over; unable to bear the time he spent away from his Godson. There was an anxiety that piled within him every time he left Harry with the Potters. The dreaded feeling that something horrible was going to happen if he wasn't there to protect Harry. Sometimes, in the middle of class, his anxiety would peak and he would hear Harry's cries ringing in his ears, so similar to that time after James and Lily's deaths. His heart would clench painfully and he would not be able to concentrate in class. Sirius wanted Harry with him all the time, and so he brought him along anywhere he could, despite the Potter's protests. Sirius did not want James and Lily to think that they'd made a bad decision by choosing him as their son's Godfather._

' _He's so cute. What's his name?'_

_Sirius's head whipped around just in time to see one of the girls from his class pull Harry's cheek. Immediately, their little alcove filled with shrill cries of a very displeased child. 'What are you doing?' Sirius growled out as he stood in front of Harry's carry-cot protectively._

' _I-' And suddenly, she didn't look so confident any more. 'I'm sorry. I just thought-'_

' _Thought what?' Sirius spat, looming in front of her. There was a storm brewing in his grey eyes, swirls of dark black moving dangerously in his irises. 'That you could use my Godson to come close to me? That you could use your fake curls and sickly sweet voices to lure me in.' He bared his teeth in a snarl, making her stumble back with fear. There were tears in her eyes and Sirius felt a sense of satisfaction at the sight of them. She hadn't thought twice when she had made Harry cry, so why should he? 'Get this in you thick little head. I will **never**  fuck you. So just give up while I still have my temper in check and you still can; and let your friends know as well. And don't you  **dare,'** his hands clenched tightly, as his right index rose towards her in warning, ' **ever** try to come close to me or my child again.'_

_He didn't spare her another glance, as he turned back to scoop up Harry in his arms. He knew she'd fled already; could hear her the fast paced clacking of her heels move farther and farther away, and her sobs as she undoubtedly complained to her friend._

' _Shh,' he whispered, rocking Harry gently. He touched his Godson's reddening cheek gently, trying to soothe the hot skin with his thumb. 'Shh, love, don't cry. I'm here now.' He would have to keep a closer watch next time. Sirius had been so busy looking the other way that he'd never noticed the bint come close. He couldn't trust anyone. 'Shh, Harry.' He wiped away the last of Harry's tears and only let himself sit down when he noticed his Godson's eyes grow heavy. 'Good lad,' he whispered, placing a soft kiss on Harry's forehead, just where the lightning shaped scar marked his skin. 'Padfoot's here for you. Padfoot's always here for you, love.'_

' _Children can be quite a handful, can't they?'_

_Sirius's head jerked up, body tensing before relaxing at the sight of his Professor._

' _I hope I haven't frightened you, Mr. Black.'_

_Sirius shook his head and smiled weakly. In truth, the Professor had scared him; enough to tighten his arms around the small bundle of blankets close to his chest._

' _I used to come here often when I was your age. I am a graduate of this very institution, you see,' the Professor went on. 'It was my little secret alcove when the outside world became too much to bear. It is also where I completed my very first thesis; consequently my best work.' He smiled, his blue eyes twinkling behind his half moon glasses._

_Sirius smiled, relaxing slightly. Professor Dumbledore was one of Sirius's favourites. He was teaching on a temporary basis for only a year, and had initially come off as extremely eccentric; what with his purple suits and starry ties, and a beard that seemed to be held together with a gold napkin ring. His teaching methods were both unconventional and practical; a trait Sirius admired about him. In addition, there was something soothing about the old man's smile and cheerful demeanor; in essence, he seemed trustworthy. 'It's quiet here,' Sirius confirmed softly, his cheek resting on the top of Harry's head. 'It's easier to study here than back at home. We don't live in the best of areas,' he admitted, face burning with shame. How the mighty Black name had fallen; if his parents and old classmates could see him now, as he struggled to use his inheritance in the most resourceful way possible. 'It's noisy and Harry has trouble sleeping.'_

_Dumbledore nodded sympathetically. 'While I don't have any children of my own, there are many that I have formed close bonds with over the years. I admit, no matter how old they are, they bring a certain meaning to your life, don't they?' Sirius felt as if there was more to the old professor's word than he was letting on. 'Sirius, I've been watching you for a while now; and of all my students, you are by far the most hard working and determined. Your temper is a hindrance, but you have a decent head on your shoulders.'_

_Sirius would have blushed had he not already sensed that this was heading somewhere specific._

' _What would you say, Sirius, to a sponsorship?' Dumbledore offered and Sirius felt his breath catch. 'I will take you under my wing, as a protégé if you will. If your results this year are promising, I will make a special recommendation to the board to have you finish earlier than the rest of your batch mates. I'm sure they can even offer you, at the least, half a scholarship to cover your expenses. All this, of course, **if**  you say yes.'_

_Sirius stared, unsure what to say. Dumbledore was looking at him expectantly; patiently waiting for an answer. Sirius looked at Harry in his arms, suddenly unwilling to let him go enough to even put him back in his cot. He needed the money. If he could get that scholarship, that would mean shifting to a more suitable home. Maybe he could even afford to buy Harry some nice toys to play with; ones that weren't gifts from the Potters. Finishing early would mean a job and a decent living. 'What's the catch?' Sirius asked, his body suddenly trembling from the gravity of the decision he would have to make. 'I know there's a catch.'_

_Dumbledore's lips curved into a sly smile as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. 'Once you graduate, you will work for me for five years. Not here in London,' he clarified even before Sirius could open his mouth. 'I have a small clinic in Lewes, where I was born. It's a small town, but it's a good place to raise a child.'_

_It was hardly a catch. In fact, it was a thinly concealed offer to change his whole life for the better. Dumbledore was offering him and education and a job; everything that he wanted and was struggling for was within his grasp. Suddenly, he felt a surge of affection towards this man he barely knew. Tears stung at his eyes and he quickly wiped them away with an embarrassed laugh. 'Yes,' he replied. 'Thank you, Professor. I don't know what else to say except thank you.'_

_Dumbledore patted him on the shoulder kindly._

' _I don't even know why you're going so far to help me out. I'm hardly the smartest in class and I haven't even known you for very long, but-' Sirius felt he had no more words to express himself; not without completely breaking down. It had been a hard year for him; starting with James and Lily's sudden deaths and the consequent struggle he faced trying to get his life sorted. In a year, he had to force his transition from boy to man; to think about someone other than himself. Dumbledore's proposition felt like a rare beacon of hope; like someone had finally decided to give him a chance and free him from the endless trap that he found himself in. Suddenly, it felt like his role as a capable Godfather to Harry was something he could achieve._

 _Dumbledore looked at him sadly, before standing up. 'While I do think that you are quite bright, Mr. Black, I have to admit that you are right. Your academics are not the reason for my offer, neither is your critical financial situation.' He sighed softly. 'It is because I see within you, the beginnings of an old friend of mine; a man I could not save._ '


	7. [pahst]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus has lived for twenty five years now. Due to his incapability to emote or feel many complicated things at the same time, he has always maintained a straight face, his facial features sitting at an angle of approximately a hundred and seventy four point two d though he has practiced it many times before in front of the mirror, Remus has truly never smiled.

'We're being sued.'

The gasps that broke the silence of the room were palpable. Every board member, who had been sitting idly and digging at their fingernails, was suddenly sitting upright at full attention. A few pencils clattered to the table, shock making fingers slack. It was rare but not unheard of - getting sued, even in a small town such as this. Yet, it was the gravity of the situation that weighed heavy in the air and in their minds; the  _reason_ they were being sued.

'This is ridiculous!' John slammed his fist on the table. 'I saved that bastard's life-'

'Without his consent,' Raymond Manuel, Head of Surgery, interrupted.

'He wasn't in a position to consent!' John spat back angrily. 'He was dying! He had no identification, no contacts – I had to make a decision, and I decided to save him!'

Manuel obviously had many more opinions to express and opened his mouth to do so, when their Senior Legal Counsel, Samuel White, put his hand up. 'It does not matter. This man is clearly on a rampage for easy money, but he has very little to pit against his,' he started calmly and the finality in his voice eased some of the more frazzled members of the board. 'It is obviously a homicide case; or perhaps a brawl gone awry. We've investigated his profile; the man has a long list of offences on his tab and has spent half his life behind bars.' He smiled reassuringly, but his lips stretched out too thin and worry lines scrunched up together on his forehead. He had concerns that he was obviously not voicing. 'If he raises religious issues, we have his file to back up John's claim that there was indeed no identification on the body and he was bought in a critical state. The jury is likely to take our side.'

John Lupin clenched his teeth, his anger still not placated. He could neither believe the accusations that they were currently dealing with nor could he erase the look of pure contempt on the patient's face when he had woken up a week ago. The man had been brought in, inches away from death and his heart failing quickly from the gunshot wound that had left a gaping hole in his chest. John had operated on him for four straight hours; willed the man to live even as the situation had gotten progressively worse. He remembered the joy they'd felt at the success of their operation and the fear that came afterwards, as he stared into furious eyes when the patient had come to.

John shivered.

Those eyes had been unnatural: yellowed at the whites and with a kind of madness within them that made you step back from fear. His face John would not forget for the rest of his life; it had been heavily disfigured - both by scarring and by birth deformations. The man's mandible had been askew, his nose flattened to one side, and his right eye had been tainted with the milky whiteness that came from blindness. When he had growled and screamed obscenities, John had noticed the sharpness of his teeth – purposely done.

'We have our best lawyers in place, I assure you. Fenrir Greyback will not get away with this.'

* * *

John groaned as the mewling cries of his six month old interrupted his rather pleasant dream. His wife, Delilah, shifted in his arms and let out a small moan of discontent of her own. 'What time is it?' he asked groggily, answering his own question by glancing at the bedside clock through slitted eyes. It read three in blinding green numbers and John shut his eyes tightly, willing his baby boy to fall asleep without any parental intervention. He knew it was moot point; Remus never cried without cause, very much unlike their first born.

'He's never hungry at this time,' Delilah said, turning in John's arms and pressing her face into his chest. 'Do you think it's time to increase his portion, maybe? He  _has_ grown quite big, but the book said-'

'Shh,' John hushed, pressing her face further into his shirt to muffle her voice. 'You worry too much. He's fine. Maybe he isn't hungry. Maybe he had a little late night accident in his nappies and is feeling a little uncomfortable.' She hummed against him and then sighed softly when John pushed her away to get up. 'I'll go check on him,' he assured her with a light peck on the lips. 'But if he's hungry, I'm afraid I won't be of much help.' He pointed toward his flat chest, earning a swat up the head from his wife.

'Check up on Rommie as well, won't you? He has school tomorrow and he'll be a nightmare in the morning if Remmie's managed to wake him up.'

John nodded, hoisting up his flannel pyjamas and foregoing his slippers in favour of bare feet. Large yawns slipped past his lips every few steps and his eyes watered from residual sleep. When he reached his elder son's room, he put his ear to the closed door and then pushed it open slightly. He winced when the hinges creaked noisily, praying to all the Gods above that seven year old Romulus Lupin wouldn't wake up. He let out a sigh of relief when he found his son's pleasantly still form under the covers. The night light in the corner threw a dim glow across his blue bed covers. There were shadows playing across the room; some stayed still like black mass swallowing their carpeted floors while others danced across Romulus's light brown hair.

'Sleeping like a baby,' John murmured to himself, closing the door. 'Which takes us to our next destination.'

Just six months shy, John and Delilah Lupin could not be happier with the little family they'd made for themselves. They had decided years ago, after Romulus had turned three, that they would try for another child. Perhaps, they would be blessed with a little girl on their second attempt. Five years of waiting and while God had granted them yet another son, John felt just as blessed. Unlike Romulus who had taken very much after his mother, Remus was starting to show striking similarities to John instead. The light brown eyes and soft tufts of just as brown hair; not to mention the dimples that graced his cheeks every time he burst into childish giggles. Romulus was the one who enjoyed Remus's little giggles the most and always went to extreme lengths to make his brother laugh. Sometimes John came home to Romulus giving Remus piggy back rides or doing a mock waltz across the room, or even ticking poor Remus behind his toes mercilessly.

'What has you up so early, love?' he cooed softly, picking Remus up from the crib. 'Are you hungry?' he pushed his index against Remus's lips to see if he would try to suckle it - something Remus only did when he was hungry for milk. 'No? You're dry...' John affirmed, patting Remus's heavily diapered bottom. He frowned, rocking on his feet back and forth to placate his son. 'Did you have a bad dream, sweetheart? Is that it? Grandma came in your dream with her ugly possum hat, didn't she?' John grinned at the thought of Delilah's indignation if she ever heard him say such things about her mother. Remus, however, did not find as much amusement in the joke and continued to cry.

John sighed. At this rate, Remus would wake up both Romulus and Delilah. He patted his son on the back, only earning a small burp for his efforts before Remus resumed his crying. 'Please let daddy sleep, Remy,' John pleaded, already knowing it was a helpless case and starting to walk outside. 'What if I take you for a walk in the back garden?' he bribed, planning for a short nap on their garden swing. Remus loved the swing and John loved sleep; it was a win-win situation really.

' _We're going to break this town, we're going to raid this town tonight,_ ' John sang softly as he slipped outside and locked the door behind him. Lullabies were really Delilah's forte, not his. For the time being, little Remus would have to settle for acoustic versions of metal music. 'Look at that,' He said with a sense of accomplishment as his son's eyelids began to flutter and the pitch of his cries softened. He smoothed back Remus's sweat soaked hair and then his tear stained face. Remus had cried himself nearly purple. 'Silly chap.'

John pushed back a little more against the grass with his bare feet, enjoying the cool breeze ruffling his hair and the gentle rocking movements of the swing. In the serenity of the night, Remus's weight felt comforting in his arms. John closed his eyes and timed his breath to the child in his arms - rise and fall; in and out. He smiled and looked up to the first storey windows. The curtains to his and Delilah's bedroom were still drawn, but Romulus's were spread wide open.

John frowned, getting up. The swing, still in motion from residual momentum, knocked against the back of his knees repeatedly. Romulus did not like waking up to sunlight on his face; Delilah never forgot to close them before tucking him in bed. Had they been open when John had checked up on Romulus a few minutes ago? For the life of him, John couldn't remember.

And then, suddenly, something moved in the dark behind the window that caught John's attention. His heart beating furiously, John blinked in hopes that it had only been a trick of the light. The moment he opened his eyes again, something hit the glass with a loud thud and caused John to jump back. Yellowing eyes met John's purposefully, stark despite the darkness, and then the glint of sharpened white teeth showed in a grin. A small body was lifted and pressed against the window, the head hanging to the side at an awkward angle and smearing blood all over the glass as it was slid up for display.

John felt his stomach drop. 'ROMULUS!'

Remus burst out crying again but John could barely hear him over the beating of his own heart. His feet were already moving, his eyes trained on the window as he ran for the back door.  _Please be alive,_ he pleaded silently,  _Rommie, please be alive. Oh God, I'll do anything. Please let him be alive._ 'Romulus!' he called out, running up the stairs in a hurried pace. Remus bounced against his hip erratically, his cries intensifying from the sudden noise and the fear that came from it. There was a shrill scream from the bedroom to his right followed by a loud thud that sounded like something heavy had been flung towards to wall. 'DELILAH!' Tears sprung in John's eyes, so similar to his son, as he felt himself bordering on the edge of desperation. In his head, even though his feet had picked up their pace, his house felt horribly big. Why, he asked himself as he ran and screamed, did he ever want to buy a house so big? Why did he leave his wife alone in the room? Why didn't he check up on his son a little longer? Why? Why? _Why?_

'Hello, Dr. Lupin.'

John never had the time to blink or even think. He was brought to an abrupt halt as fists collided with his face and stomach at the same time; causing his feet to lose their grip. A shot of pain and panic erased his mind blank, as he found himself falling backwards. His wide eyes registered the heavy leather boot coming towards him, and by instinct, he found his body turning and curling up on himself to protect the baby in his arms. A sickening crack filled the air as the boot connected with his ribs, ripping out a pained scream from his throat. There was another kick to his spine and John felt his hands tightening on Remus; one cupping the back of the baby's sensitive head and the other clutching him around the waist.

'I told you I'd come to visit, didn't I?'

Through his bleary vision, John could make out the movement of the boots; back and forth and then around him, as if inspecting the state John was in. His eyes travelled upwards slow, following the line of dark blue trousers and then the thin blade, clutched within blood stained hands. Gnarled hands that sported scars and nails so sharp and long that they could rip someone's throat apart if need ever arose. They were hands that John knew well; hands that had gripped his shirt collar as he was accused him of blasphemy. His own hands scrabbled for purchase; sliding against the carpeted floor as he tried to get up. His feet refused to move, feeling as heavy as lead. He felt helpless, useless, pathetic; and above all, he felt fear. Fear of the truth behind those bedroom doors and the blood that dripped like rain from the very tip of the knife. Fear of the meaning behind the silence that permeated the very atmosphere; silence that was only broken by the cries of the baby in his arms and the ominous  _clack, clack, clack_ of shoes that circled him.

A face loomed in front of his eyes, blocking his vision. For a split second, John could see nothing but yellow; and then his vision focused and he was met by the disfigured features of Fenrir Greyback. His white teeth were bared in a wicked grin and his sloping nostrils puffed stale breath across John's face. John tried to back away, his body wriggling desperately by using his left hand as leverage. The pain in his ribs was immense and it only intensified when his back finally met with the dresser leg. He heard the picture frames that Delilah had so fondly arrange on top of it, clatter and fall.

They were trapped.

Backed into a corner with no escape.

'Why the tears, Dr. Lupin?' Greyback asked coyly. 'You should be happy. Ecstatic. Over the moon.' He laughed and then threw his head back and howled like a wolf. 'Your family is finally free. Free of this cruel, cruel world that spits in disgust when they see your face. Free of the world that keeps you alive so that you can suffer every single day, looking like this.' He brought his face closer to John's; the shadows that played in the darkness highlighting the disfiguration in his features so starkly that he looked inhuman. 'You'll be free, too, Dr. Lupin. You and then finally,  _me.´_

 _Mad._ This man was mad; and if John didn't get out of here, then he would kill them.

'I'm doing you a favour, Dr. Lupin.' Greyback laughed, straightening and starting to circle him again, like a wolf with its prey. 'Consider it as thanks for saving my life. You really are kind, Dr. Lupin.'

John's eyes darted for escape; anything that would help him through.

'Nothing at all like your friends in court yesterday, who were so very cruel. Spitting horrid, horrid things; lies and fabrications…calling me deranged. Can you imagine?'

John slid slightly sideways as he hooked his foot to the dresser leg. In a burst of adrenaline, he pulled as hard as he could. He didn't wait to see the dresser topple into Greyback; didn't once look back to see if he had managed to hurt the bastard. He ran. His ribs burned and pulled, but he ignored it as he prayed fervently for his feet would carry him through down the stairs. He could hears screams of rage behind him and the crash of furniture, as Greyback no doubt ploughed through John's surprise attack. From a distance, John could see the phone on their coffee table and his hand reached for it even before he'd come close. He shifted Remus to his left arm, his right hand turning the receiver and then reaching for the dial pad. His fingers were trembling as he dialed 999. He didn't wait for anyone to pick up. He didn't have the time; he had realised this the minute he'd looked back and seen Greyback charging down the stairs, despite the new limp.

'HELP!' John screamed as he reached for the door leading to their basement. His throat burned and protested, but he needed his voice to carry through to the phone. 'HELP! PLEASE HELP!' He pushed the door close behind him and turned the lock twice. He descended the stairs quickly, his heart pounding in his chest. His face was wet from sweat and tears and he wiped them away quickly, as he looked for something to block the door. There was a large cardboard box full of old clothes in the corner and John found himself leaning over it as he lowered Remus in. 'It's okay, love,' he cooed his false assurance when Remus's hands refused to let go of him. He kissed his son's forehead gently and hugged him close. 'It's okay. I won't let anything happen to you, I promise.' He swallowed back thick tears as he pried away his son's chubby fingers.

Something collided against the basement door, making the hinges rattle. 'You can run, Lupin, but you can't hide forever. Not from me!'

They had rods that they used for the climbers in the back garden. Too thin and frail to do anything on their own; but they had enough. Twenty, maybe more, John reckoned as he gathered them in his arms and started up the stairs again. His hands worked quickly, bending and winding the rods together around the door handle. Greyback was unrelenting in his efforts to break the door; slamming himself repeatedly, like a fly against a window. John's heart was beating holes through his chest as he worked frantically, but Remus had calmed down now and John took his son's silence as trust in his abilities. Once he was done, he sat down, pushing his full weight against the door and wincing every time the door offered resistance against his sore ribs. He pulled up his knees to his chest, trying to ignore Greyback's grunts and catcalls as he attacked, unrelenting. He would die before Greyback got in. John would die first before he let Greyback even come close to his son; his baby.

'I'm sorry,' he whispered as he buried his face into the crook between his knees. 'Del, Rommie; I'm so sorry.' A sob escaped his lips, but he quickly stifled it and grit his teeth tightly. He wanted to scream, to shout; but knew better than to provoke a madman like Greyback. For the time being, John would hold his fort for as long as necessary. It would be dawn soon and if he didn't come to the hospital on time, someone would come looking. Someone would definitely come looking.

'Come on, Dr. Lupin!' Greyback laughed, banging the door with his fists repeatedly. 'Come on. Don't you want to be free? You and that little darling of yours. It's a baby boy, isn't it? What's his name; won't you tell me?'

Fear crawled in his throat and John was just about to reply, when the piercing sound of police sirens filled the air. It was getting steadily louder and the closer it came, the slower Greyback's movements became. They had heard his cries for help; thank God, they had heard his cries for help. Yet, there still wasn't room for relief, not until they were here at his front door. Not until Greyback was put behind bars.

There was a tutting sound behind the door. 'Such a shame, Doctor, that I have to cut my little visit short. Such a shame, indeed. But it's not over.' Laughter, yet again; John was beginning to dread that laughter. 'It's not over, Doctor. It isn't over, until you and your little baby boy are _dead._ Just like I should have been.'

The door quaked behind John one last time before there was silence.

* * *

'I'm sorry for your loss, John.'

John didn't say anything. What would he say? Thank you? Instead, he sat in the same position he had sat for the last four hours as the police and the investigation team went in and out of his house. The same position he'd sat in, as he watched them pick up the cold, limp bodies of his wife and son; necks snapped and marked with bites from sharp human teeth. They had put his family in black zipper bags, as if they were just garbage to be disposed of. They had asked him a million questions, made fake promises of a thorough investigation, assured him that everything was going to be all right.  _Nothing_ was going to be all right.  _Nothing._

They were gone.  _Dead._

'Did he-' There was a nervous pause, as if considering the weight and phrasing of what was coming next. 'I did not see young Remus.'  _In the row of dead bodies._

John looked up at Dumbledore's kind blue eyes, saw the concern and pain within them. Dumbledore had lost his sister to circumstances as well; he would understand John at this point more than anyone else. He would understand that John wasn't weak; that he hadn't failed to protect his family. He had  _tried._ He had honestly tried his very best; he had tried to reach them so, so desperately. He had tried to fight. He wasn't a failure.

'John,' Dumbledore called again, 'where is Remus?'

' _It isn't over, until you and your little baby boy are dead.'_

John shook his head and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. 'I don't know.'

Dumbledore was silent for a while. There was no comfort in their silence, just as there was no comfort in the hustle and bustle of the police. 'I'm sorry,' he repeated somberly. 'They told me that you've refused to go the hospital. John, I understand you're upset, but ignoring your injuries-'

'I've received treatment,' John replied shortly. 'I'll say the same thing that I've said to all the rest: I'm not moving until they find him. I don't care how they catch him; I don't care what they have to do; if they have to kill him to bring him in. They shouldn't have let him escape the very first time. I shouldn't have saved him that day.' He buried his face in the crook of his knees and pulled his hair with both hands. 'Fuck, I should have just let him rot and die on that table.' A sob escaped his lips and he tried to stifle it, suddenly ashamed of himself.

He  _was_ a failure.

'John-'

John stood up and squared his shoulders. 'I'm sorry, Dumbledore, but I'm going to leave you here. No need to lock the door as you leave,' he continued bitterly, turning away and closing his hand around the brass door handle. It rattled noisily; a result of the damage it had taken last night. 'There's nothing left to take.' Momentarily, his fingers ran across the deep cracks in the wood and the hinges that were starting to come loose. 'Thank you for coming, Dumbledore. I know it must have been a long trip from London.'

John didn't wait for Dumbledore to reply or start a sympathetic conversation about how things would get better if he stood strong. He found himself walking into the basement quickly and shutting the door behind him. He turned the lock before he descended down the stairs, turning on the lights as he went and kicking off the debris of wiring from last night. The flooring creaked underneath his feet, making enough noise to cause a slight disturbance at the very corner of the room.

'I'm here, love,' John whispered, wiping his eyes and nose with his hands hastily as he approached the cardboard box that he had hidden behind a tower of old furniture. 'I'm here.' His lips cracked into the first smile since the morning as he looked down at the little baby in the box, wrapped up in blankets made from old clothes. Amber eyes were scrunched in discontent and full pink lips pouted in warning of an upcoming cry. 'Shhh,' John whispered, scooping the baby in his arms and kissing his softly on the forehead. 'We're safe now,' he assured, pressing the child close to his chest and resting his cheek against the still soft and fragile head. 'I won't let anything happen to you, I promise. I won't ever let him take you, Remus.'

* * *

_Once upon a time there lived a little boy. He never quite grew up._

_Once upon a time there lived a young man, who refused to be loved._

**Misunderstood** [mis-uhn-der- **st** _ **oo**_ **d** ]:  **improperly** **understood** **or** **interpreted.**

Remus's father was not a monster.

Remus's father was misunderstood.

'They told me I would find you in the hospital gardens. If you're trying to sulk in silence, at least find a new place to hide. Here I was thinking you were unpredictable.'

For the very first time since Remus's heart had skipped (and the many times after that), Remus found that he felt very little happiness at the sound of Sirius's voice. While Sirius himself had not said anything about Remus's father, he had heard all the horrible accusations that the receptionist had made. Remus did not want Sirius to think his father was a bad person. He did not want Sirius to see his father that way; he wanted Sirius to understand his father like Dumbledore did. He wanted Sirius to know that Remus's father had loved Remus very, very much. That receptionist was an awful woman, Remus thought. In fact, he preferred the obese, racist receptionist that sat the evening shift much more.

'The sky really is beautiful today, isn't it?'

The sky was beautiful every day. When Remus first saw the sky, he had wanted to touch it. Even now, years later, he wanted to touch it.

'Did you get all your stitches removed?' Sirius asked as he sat down beside Remus and folded his legs underneath himself. 'Dumbledore told me that one of them had gotten infected because you'd caught a cold. How are you now?' One of Sirius's hands rose and placed itself on the side of Remus's neck. 'You seem all right.'

 **Warm**  [wawrm] : **having a sensation of bodily heat.**

Remus's face downturned in disappointment when Sirius's hand moved away. It had felt nice just then; as if the upset he was feeling would leave if the hand had stayed long enough. It felt odd there now; a prickly feeling which felt like it could only be soothed if Sirius put his hand back. Remus raised a hand to his neck, mimicking the place Sirius had touched, but it did not help at all. 'Could you put your hand back?' he asked, scratching his idly as he looked at Sirius with hopeful eyes. When Sirius looked back at him hesitantly, Remus leaned closer and rested his head on Sirius's shoulder to replace the warmth that had left him. In his mind, he counted the thumps of Sirius's heartbeat; seventy two; seventy five; eighty two; per minute and then Remus lost count because the beats were quickening too fast for him to keep track.

 **Palpitation**  [pal-pi-tey-sh _uh_ n] **:** **an** **unusually** **or** **abnormally** **rapid** **or** **violent** **beating** **of** **the heart.**

Remus heard Sirius swallow. 'They told me you bought cake?'

Remus nodded. 'Harry said it was your birthday tomorrow and I always have cake on my birthday.' He looked up at Sirius. 'He said that you always forget your birthday because you are very old.'

Sirius did not look very happy at the prospect of cake. Remus expected Sirius to get angry at this point and tell him to leave, as he always did. So it came as a surprise to him when Sirius's lips stretched across his teeth in a strained, almost pained smile. 'Thank you. That's very kind of you to bring cake,' he thanked, his voice slightly pitchy. 'So, where is it?'

 _Oh dear._ 'We ate it,' Remus clarified, pointing to the ducks now swimming merrily in the fountain. He had wanted to save some for the ducks back home, but somehow the birds had also got wind of Remus's cake and had pecked him repeatedly until he had given up most of it. Remus had also been massively upset when he'd come to the gardens and had eaten whatever had remained of it. Whenever Remus had been upset, his father would always bring him a chocolate cake and books. On Remus's birthday, he would light the cake with a single candle and they would watch the flame flicker merrily before his father would urge him to make a wish. Make it aloud, he would say, so that whatever wish it was, John would grant it for him himself.

 **Miss**  [mis] **:** **to** **notice** **or grieve** **the** **absence** **or** **loss** **of.**

Remus felt horribly upset. 'My father was not a monster,' he tried explaining to Sirius, hoping that Sirius would understand. Remus, while quite brilliant with words and had an extensive vocabulary, always found it exceedingly difficult to express what he was feeling. Everything felt short and nondescript; and Remus struggled.

He heard Sirius sigh. 'Remus, do you not think what your father did…maybe, he was a bit…unjust to you? He is responsible for the way you are now, isn't he?'

Remus's upset grew further. 'Is there something wrong with me?' he asked, fixing Sirius with a worried expression.

'No,' Sirius assured with a small smile, much to Remus's relief. 'There's nothing wrong with you. You're a good person, Remus Lupin, if not a little annoying.' Then, to Remus's surprise, Sirius placed a hand on Remus's head and slowly carded his fingers through his hair. The curls got caught in between his fingers but he did not seem to mind. 'I don't think your father is a monster, Remus.'

 **Happy**  [hap-ee]:  **delighted, pleased, or glad, as over a particular thing.**

'Perhaps, I don't agree with what he did or understand it fully, but…' Sirius's face twisted in sympathy as he looked down at Remus. He looked very troubled by what he'd learned. 'I don't think he did it with bad intentions.' His hand ran softly across Remus's temple. 'I don't think he wanted to hurt you.'

Remus shook his head violently, looking at Sirius with wide eyes. 'He loved me, just as I love you.'

Sirius broke into a fit out coughs. 'You aren't going to lock me in anywhere, are you?' When Remus shook his head in alarm, he laughed. 'That's fine then.'

'It's fine to love you?'

Sirius exhaled heavily. 'Remus, it's fine to love someone but it's not all right to force someone into loving you back, do you understand? It's the reason why everyone thinks so horribly of your father. Love is something that a person has to feel for you on their own and sometimes the harsh truth of reality is that most times, the person you care for doesn't love you back. Do you understand where I'm going with this?'

Remus frowned and nodded his head. 'I need you to feel love for me also.'

'Exactly.'

'How?'

Sirius ran an exasperated hand across his face. 'Figure it out,' he bit back, before mumbling something that sounded like,  _'why do I even bother with this bloody ...?'_

 **Challenge**  [chal-inj] **:** **to** **summon** **to** **a** **contest** **of** **skill,** **strength,** **or special effort** **.**


	8. [gift]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus has lived for twenty five years now. Due to his incapability to emote or feel many complicated things at the same time, he has always maintained a straight face, his facial features sitting at an angle of approximately a hundred and seventy four point two d though he has practiced it many times before in front of the mirror, Remus has truly never smiled.

_'Are you taking your medications properly? I won't lie to you, John; you're not getting any better. In fact, you've worsened.' Doctor Charles sighed softly. 'John, have you considered meeting with Dr. Bracken like I advised? He's a highly recommended surgeon and I have a feeling he can help more than I can.'_

_John began to do the buttons on his shirt. 'I don't need a surgeon, Charles. I might switch up my medications a bit and see if I can get my blood pressure to calm down a little.' The smile he shot the doctor was pained at best. 'Thank you for your help as usual. I really do hate wasting time, especially in queues and reports.'_

_There a period of short silence before Charles spoke up again. 'John, it's been fifteen years since then,' he said softly._

_John's lips tightened. He didn't like being reminded of that incident and he certainly didn't like talking about it._

_'When was the last time you went out with one of us for a couple of drinks? Or even just got out of the house for more than just work? It feels like you're in a constant rush to get home.' John bristled in anger, but Charles didn't seem to notice. 'Isolating yourself like this won't get you anywhere. Why don't you start over, move town, maybe find someone to settle down with?'_

_'I have a wife,' John spat, standing up._

_'No, John, you **had** a wife,' Charles corrected. 'I don't want to seem insensitive, mate, but you need to stop dwelling in the past now. I can't even begin to imagine how horrible it must have been to lose your family, least of all the way you did. I can't even fathom the amount of grief you're still dealing with. But you need to leave them behind and move on. I'm sure they would have wanted you to take care of yourself and live life to the fullest.'_

_John grit his teeth and clenched his fists. 'I need to go home.'_

_'John, you need to go to Dr. Bracken.'_

_'I don't need to go anywhere,' John bit out, already walking towards the exit. In his mind, he had already decided to never ask Charles for a favour ever again. 'I don't need you to tell me what my family would have wanted from me because I already know: they would me to save them and protect them. They would have wanted to be alive.' Saying so, John stormed out. He brushed past the nurses who tried to greet him and then he was outside the clinic, panting, even though he hadn't run all that far._

_'Remus,' he whispered for no one to hear. He put a hand to his heart, feeling it beat at a pace that far too fast to be normal. 'Remus,' he called again, this closing his eyes and willing his body to calm down. His feet began to shuffle slowly, picking up pace as thoughts of his son ran through his mind. Remus would be waiting for him, always alone. Remus would be sitting on his bed and wondering where John had gone to for so long and why he was left alone this way. 'Remus,' he repeated, again and again. He no longer lived in denial to the fact that his son had become his God now; the sole reason John still pushed his frail heart to work. It was ironic really: a heart doctor with a heart problem._

_'I'm home,' John smiled as he closed the door behind him gently. The automatic lock clicked in place and the handles seized. The rapid beating inside his chest slowed as his eyes took in the sight of his son, fast asleep in his favourite egg swing. He was curled up into a loose ball, his feet folded underneath him and his head resting sideways on the wall of the wicker swing. 'I'm home,' he whispered again, though he knew perfectly well that Remus couldn't hear him._

_His reached out carefully, hooking his arms underneath Remus's armpits and around his waist as he picked Remus up. At fifteen, Remus was still painfully small - barely as tall as a twelve year old. John had tried to help. He had expanded the bedroom so that Remus would have more space to walk; tried to play with him and encourage him to run a little more; but it just wasn't enough. Remus wasn't growing as he should at his age; his legs remained thin and frail; his pallor always sickly from the lack of exposure to sunlight. He was weak, too, tiring easily from the smallest bit of effort._

_John ran a hand through Remus's hair and kissed his forehead lovingly. His eyes, however, checked for wounds. He wasn't sure when it had started, but as Remus grew older it was becoming harder and harder to lie to him about the world. A part of Remus subconsciously knew there was more outside than the room John had kept him in. A part of Remus was starting to crave freedom and it was starting to show. Even if Remus did not understand what freedom was beyond the conceptual definition, his body asked for it. Remus was starting to harm himself. Every time John left him alone, Remus's frustration would build to the point where he would take something sharp to his skin. Every time this happened, John would feel his heart clog his throat - shaky hands struggling to close the wounds as quickly as possible and praying to every God out there to let him keep his son. With every such incident, he felt his desperation to keep and protect Remus grow._

_'Sorry. Did I wake you?'_

_Remus nodded, his eyes opening blearily. 'I fell asleep.'_

_John smiled. 'Yes, you did.'_

_'I was drawing,' Remus continued as John lay him down on the bed. 'I was drawing a mother.' His eyes were keen, oblivious to the sinking sensation in John's heart. 'All the children in my books have mothers. I was drawing mine.'_

_'Is that so?' John asked shakily, even as he walked back to the swing Remus had been lounging on and picked up the abandoned sketchbook. The picture looked nothing like Delilah; very few things Remus drew were spot on. He drew only from the descriptions he read in books; from the imagination he had such an abundance of. He had no reality to back his knowledge; giving birth to warped trees, flat grass, and faces that very rarely looked human. 'It's a lovely picture.' He smiled as convincingly as possible._

_It was times like these when John felt like a horrible person. When the gravity of what he was doing and the sense of how wrong it was hit him. It wasn't as if he didn't understand. It wasn't as if he didn't know he was doing Remus injustice by lying to him and keeping him here, but he didn't know how to stop. Every time he told himself that today would be the day of truth, he was stopped by the thoughts of Fenrir still roaming free; or by the knowledge that there were so many more dangers in the outside world that John could not protect his son from. There were cars, thieves, muggers, viruses and infections. If Remus was kept here, he would be safe. If Remus was kept here, John would never lose him like he did everyone else._

_'Your mother would hate me, if she were here,' John heard himself say without thought. He had told Remus very little about Delilah and Romulus - only that they had left for a better place. When asked what that better place was, John had gone into a lengthily imaginative description not far from those in Remus's fantasy books. He found it difficult even after all these years. He felt shame over his failure. It wasn't just Remus; in the last fifteen years, John had talked to no one about the incident. Sometimes, the pressure that built within him felt overwhelming. Sometimes, the fear of rejection and accusation he felt was enough to stop him from telling anybody._

_'Why?' Remus asked, looking up at John with wide eyes._

_John swallowed. A part of him considered telling the truth and letting Remus free of this prison John had created. The same part of him that requested this of him every single day. The same part of him that John ignored steadfastly. 'One day, you will hate me, too.'_

_Remus looked almost alarmed by the thought. 'But I love you.'_

_John felt his chest throb. 'Can you make me a promise, Remus?' He asked softly. 'No matter what you find out about me; no matter how horrible you think I am…don't hate me.' He was surprised at how desperate his plea sounded as it fell from his lips. Looking at Remus, he knew that his words were not getting anywhere. Remus didn't understand; he didn't have the capacity to because John had restricted it. Remus's grasp at understanding emotion was meager at best. 'Just,' he still continued, pressing the heel of his hands to his eyes tightly, 'just, don't hate me. Forgive me. Don't hate me, all right?'_

* * *

**Gift** [gift]:  **something** **given** **voluntarily without payment in return, as** **to** **show favor toward someone, honor an occasion, or make a gesture of assistance; present.**

' _Thoughtful and heartfelt gifts are the best way to indulge your lover and keep them happy, while strengthening the bonds of your relationship. If chosen correctly, something as simple as a gift could not only win your lover's heart, but also his/her conviction that you are truly the one for them. It will also bring you a very enjoyable tumble underneath the sheets_ ,' Remus read, quietly, his fingers tightly clutching the book within his hands with growing excitement. ' _Some researchers believe evolutionary forces may have favored gift giving. Men who were the most generous may have had the most reproductive success with women. (Notably, the use of food in exchange for sexual access and grooming has been documented in our closest ape relative, the chimpanzee)_  (1).'

Remus swallowed. He very much wanted reproductive success with Sirius.

 **Sex** [seks]:  **to engage in sexual intercourse.**

Remus looked up to see the shopkeeper staring at him quite intently. Remus was a regular in this particular bookshop (the finest in Lewes, he thought), and the shopkeeper (Ben) knew both him and his tastes very well. Remus was not one to buy books beyond fiction. He enjoyed worlds that were beyond his; creativity that tickled his imagination; and characters that spun images before his eyes and spilled into his paintings. However, today, Remus had been unable to resist the bright pink book featured in the 'Best Sellers' shelf, titled quite attractively: _Getting You Lover To Marry You._ There were very few things that Remus truly wanted from life, complacent as he was, but marrying Sirius was quite high up on the list.

However, currently, he was faced with two very problematic dilemmas: he was a pound-fifty short of the actual price of this gem of a book and he was also largely short of ideas for gifts. Remus's only experience with giving gifts was with Harry, who was relatively easy, because he simply asked for whatever it was he wanted. Remus did not have to think very much and simply followed the rather pleasant feeling that fluttered in his chest whenever Remus's gift had Harry's face breaking into a smile. A smile, Remus theorised, was infectious, much like a common cold; though sometimes Remus had to work very hard to construct it on his face.

 **Contagious** [k _uh_ n- **tey** -j _uh_ s]:  **tending to spread from person to person.**

'Can I help you, Mr. Lupin?'

Remus looked thoughtfully at Ben, the shopkeeper, and nodded. 'I must buy a gift that is thoughtful and heartfelt so that Sirius will marry me.'

Ben nodded knowledgeably. 'I see. Perhaps if you bought the book, it could help you with ideas on the perfect gift?' He suggested helpfully, pointing towards the book in Remus's hands. 'Would you like me to take it to the counter for you?'

Remus shook his head regretfully. 'I am short by a pound-fifty,' he informed and was almost alarmed as Ben broke into a wide smile.

'You're a regular customer here, Mr. Lupin. I'm sure I can give you a discount for your continued patronage to our shop.' Ben replied cheerfully and Remus found the corner of his lips also turning, just like it did when Harry smiled. 'If you would just follow me to the counter. Alice is ringing up a few more customers and then it will be your turn. She's a bit slow, our Alice, but I'm sure this book will be worth the wait.'

Remus hummed, already distracted by the ladies in the front line who were chatting amongst themselves. There were two of them, one rather tall and thin while the other leaning more towards the dumpy side. Their faces animated wildly as they spoke, eyes widening and teeth showing through painted lips. Their hands moved in fluid gestures to accompany their thoughts and words.

'The moment I saw it I just knew Jobin would like it. You should have seen that dress, Kathy, it was…'

Remus mapped the little movements in their facial muscles and then tried to imitate them on his own face. He pressed his hand to his cheek, feeling only the most minimal of pulls to his skin as his face struggled to keep up with such a varied range of expressions. His effort lacked the vigour the two women showed and his tries fell rather flat.

He was still incapable of showing very complex emotions effectively.

'I had it all planned out. We had a party last night; you know the one at Penny's? He couldn't take his eyes off me the entire time. We didn't even stay for dessert; he just dragged me out and we only just barely made it to the car…'

Remus looked back at the two ladies.

 **Envy** [ **en** -vee]:  **a feeling of discontent or covetousness with regard to another's** **advantages.**

'Take my advice, love, and start spending a bit more on your looks. This plain-Jane thing will only get you so far. Men want zest; they want sexy…' the tall woman advised the chubby one as she laid a hand on her friend's shoulder. 'I'll take you to that store if you want. Once I'm done with you, I guarantee, you'll have that boyfriend of yours going down on one knee in no time. He'll be dying to have you in his life.' As she said so, the rather large diamond sitting atop her ring finger caught the light and glimmered in front of Remus's eyes.

It seemed like a beacon of hope. 'Excuse me,' Remus interrupted quickly even though he knew that he was being terribly rude. 'Would you be done with me also?' He frowned, realising that his English had gone slightly off tee in his excitement and haste. The two ladies seem to also have noticed his err; and Remus felt rightfully ashamed to have made so little sense in a place as distinguished as a bookshop. 'I have worn a dress before, but only in the hospital, and Sirius did not seem very impressed with my legs.' A slight twinge of upset graced his face momentarily. 'Will going down on one knee give him a better view and change his mind?'

The two women exchanged confused looks with each other and then Ben, who chuckled but said nothing. 'I don't think we understand,' the tall woman informed him warily.

Remus wondered how better to explain his plight. 'I would like to marry Sirius,' he said as simply as possible, holding up the book in his hands in hopes that they would understand. He pointed at her wedding ring hopefully. 'Will you tell me how?'

Both women's faces broke into wide grins as they looked at each other and then suddenly let out high pitched squeals. The slightly larger one jumped on to her toes and clapped her hands in what Remus could only assume excitement. The taller one was already extending a hand towards Remus, touching his hair experimentally and pulling at his suspenders. Remus did not like being touched too much by strangers but he let her in hopes that she would find more answers for him through this procedure. While he wasn't an expert on the subject of body language, Remus had a feeling that his request would not be denied.

 **Jackpot** [ **jak** -pot]:  **the chief prize or the cumulative stakes in a game or contest.**

* * *

'Now?' Sirius asked, cradling the phone between his shoulder and ear. He put the bowl of eggs and his whisk on the countertop before holding on to the receiver properly. 'But it's a holiday and Harry will be alone at home. He'll be awake in half an hour and I can hardly-' He sighed in frustration. 'Then tell her to trust another doctor; I'm not the only one in that clinic!' His other hand came to rub his temples. 'Of course she is going to die. She is _always_  going to die. If I had a penny for every time we thought she was going to die, I'd quit my job and buy myself a mansion.' Sirius listened patiently to the voice on the other side of the phone, before finally giving in. 'All right, ten minutes. I won't spare more.' He slammed the receiver down with more force than necessary before trudging up the stairs to the bedroom to change.

It was meant to be his week off. Sirius had specifically applied for it two months prior because he knew Harry's school would end then. It was meant to be the week Sirius sourced for the perfect babysitter to care for Harry until the new semester of school started again. If Sirius could have his way, he would have opted to just bring Harry along to work and have him sit in the waiting area; but Sirius was well aware of how much Harry hated being there. Things were much simpler when Harry was younger and could just be shoved into a carry cot to be taken wherever Sirius went. Of course, Harry's grandparents, the Potters, had also been there to help Sirius out back then. And while Sirius hadn't quite liked leaving Harry with anyone, the Potters had been trustworthy and reliable. Now, five interviews down, and Sirius had yet to find anyone he could truly depend on for Harry's welfare. The closest he had gotten to the perfect babysitter was Penny Periwinkle and she had a slight cheek pulling problem. She had already pulled Sirius's cheeks twice.

His  _arse_  cheeks, that is.

'What am I going to do with you, love?' Sirius asked softly, gazing at the small figure lying between the covers. Harry had come to him again last night, complaining of monsters. Sirius knew he had to teach Harry to sleep in his own bed more often, but didn't have the heart to. A selfish part of him had always wanted to keep Harry close anyway. 'I'll leave you a note on the fridge, but sleep tight and don't get up too quickly. Padfoot will be back in a flash.' He smiled at no one as he began to close and lock all the windows of the house, pulling on them to make sure they were secure. He turned off all the switches and power sockets, checked the stove and the iron, and then finally the front door as he locked it from the outside. He took a moment to scan the garden and their house, feeling only slightly relieved when he was sure everything had been taken care of.

Yet, Sirius couldn't help but look back many times even as he walked away; almost as if he was expecting Harry to peek out of the windows and call him back. Not that Harry would; Sirius had locked all the windows, hadn't he? It was the first time Sirius was leaving him alone in the house, but he wouldn't be gone long. The house could easily be seen from the clinic and Sirius had taken all the precautions necessary. It was safe and Harry would be asleep, since he'd tired himself out last night by staying awake to watch cartoon reruns with Sirius.

'Dr. Black, thank God you're here!'

'Mrs. Berkley, you've been having shell fish again, haven't you?' Sirius sighed, already extending his hand to the nurse, who he knew would have her regular shot ready. It was hardly the first incident with Mrs. Berkley's allergies and while Sirius did feel sorry for the poor woman, her carelessness was starting to agitate him slightly. 'I understand that it's difficult with this many allergies, but I've already compiled a two page list of what you can and cannot eat.'

'Most of it is what I cannot eat, really,' Mrs. Berkley complained through a swollen face. 'Isn't there anything else you can do, Doctor?'

Sirius sighed heavily, knowing a lost cause if any. He made short work of her, advising her for the umpteenth time on her nutritional needs and a recommended specialist in St. Mungo's. He had little doubt that she would be back again in less than a month's time, asking for him because she had had yet another packet of peanuts or helped herself to more sugar than strictly allowed. Having built an attachment to Sirius over the past year, old Mrs. Berkley, for some ungodly reason, always refused to receive treatment from anyone else. The nurses always panicked fearing the worst and usually, Sirius was quite kind to her despite her stubborn decision. Today, however, he hurried to just be rid of her; not even giving her his perfunctory smile as he whizzed past the door to his office. He felt unsettled and jittery without Harry by his side, and he tried to remember if James or Lily had ever made such a fuss with the little boy.

'Sirius, my boy!'

Sirius groaned loudly, his hand stopping only inches away from the exit. 'Good morning, Dumbledore,' he droned, body turning to face his old Professor resignedly.

'I see Mrs. Berkley's has had yet another episode again,' Dumbledore observed cheerfully. 'I can't seem to complain; she does turn over quite a lovely profit for the clinic, don't you think?'

'And here I was thinking that you'd opened this clinic with the intention to help people,' Sirius replied dryly.

Dumbledore chuckled. 'Help will always be given to those you ask for it. Unfortunately, the kind of help I employ demand hefty salaries.' He patted Sirius on the back as if sharing some internal joke. 'I assume you want to go back to Harry now?' Dumbledore asked, looking pointedly at Sirius's impatient foot tapping a progressive crack on the marble floors. When Sirius nodded in hopes that he would be let go, the old man sighed and then, instead, tightened his grip on Sirius's shoulder. 'Sirius, perhaps we could talk in my office. It won't take long,' he assured when Sirius looked hesitant. 'And you're not in any kind of trouble.'

Sirius bit his lip, knowing he had very little choice but to agree. The old man was already leading him into the office, closing the doors behind him. The sombre look on Dumbledore's usually jovial face was enough to convince him either way; yet he could not help but glance repeatedly at the clock even as they settled down into Dumbledore's office. 'Dumbledore, Harry's home alo-'

'This  _is_  regarding Harry, Sirius,' Dumbledore interrupted, his expression serious enough to gain Sirius's attention. He sat down and gestured Sirius to do the same. His piercing blue eyes drove holes into Sirius's very soul and regarded him with an expression that made Sirius relive the feeling of guilt he always had in school after a prank gone wrong. 'Tell me, Sirius, has Remus told you about his father?' He started, much to Sirius's surprise. He had expected a reprimand of sorts, even though he wasn't sure what he'd done wrong. Old habits die hard, after all.

'Vaguely,' Sirius replied after a moment's hesitation, still not sure where this was going. 'I didn't want to pry and he seemed sensitive to the topic.' He wondered how, ever since that fateful day in the clinic, every conversation he had inadvertently linked to Remus Lupin. It was bad enough that Harry was constantly on the phone with the man or begging to go play in what he described was,  _'Remus's palace'_. Had Sirius not known how naively childlike Remus was, Harry's consistent pleas to visit Remus would have had him suspicious. However, it did not disquiet him any less. It was absolutely pathetic how Sirius was now beginning to ask more and more about Remus's welfare; slipping in questions to Harry during dinner such as, _'how is that man you talk to, can't remember his name, Re-Remoo-?'_

Dumbledore nodded after a moment of consideration. 'John Lupin was a good man, despite popular opinions that state otherwise,' he started slowly, his eyes searching Sirius for any kind of objection. 'We worked together here in Lewes for seven years before I'd decided to move to London. I was the attending doctor for both his children, Romulus and Remus, though, for Remus, I had to fly in from London. But then Remus has always been a bit special, hasn't he?'

Sirius sucked in a deep breath. He hadn't known about an older brother. 'Where are they now? The rest of his family, I mean.'

'Dead,' Dumbledore replied and the abruptness of his answer shocked Sirius. 'Perhaps the better word for it would be:  _murdered_. As a doctor, Sirius, we are always taught to save lives, but John had saved the wrong one – a psychopath by the name of Fenrir Greyback.' The old doctor waited for any signs of recognition, but Sirius had never heard of the man before. What he knew, however, was the very mention of him had managed to send a shiver down his spine. Sirius already knew where this was going. 'He sued the hospital, claiming he'd never wanted to be saved in the first place. It was a moot case; the evidence was against him and John was safe. On paper, it was Greyback who had lost. In real life, it was John.'

'He killed them,' Sirius whispered knowingly. He was suddenly strongly reminded of James and Lily; of the sense of loss that had engulfed him. He wondered if John had felt the same; that crushing despair that left you only half the human being you were years ago. He wished John were alive right now. Out of all the people Sirius had ever met, he felt that John would have understood him the best.

'Remus was only a few months old. Nobody knows how John managed to save him; nobody asked because everyone thought he was dead. John _told_ everyone he was dead. And that's what we believed for the next eighteen years.'

Sirius swallowed thickly as a sense of horror settled in the pit of his stomach. 'That's why John kept him locked inside the house…'

Dumbledore nodded. 'The first year after we found him, we were sure Remus would not make it. He'd already been rejected by the best hospitals in London, which was why I took him in. I owed this to him; for never having understood John's agony and for ignoring the clear signs of his obsession.' He sighed, closing his eyes. 'Remus had been living in a carefully constructed bubble for eighteen years. He had never seen sunlight and it burned his eyes. He was underdeveloped, thin, and weak; he couldn't even walk beyond a few steps. He was used to a certain diet and could not stomach anything beyond what John had always fed him. His body could not regulate temperatures; he could not even breathe normal fresh air without passing out.' Dumbledore's eyes took up a faraway look, as if remembering that very time. The blue in his irises brightened and he blinked rapidly, turning away to cover his face.

Sirius shifted in his seat uncomfortably, giving the old professor a moment to collect himself. There was a renewed sense of respect blossoming in Sirius's chest; both for Dumbledore and for Remus. Suddenly, everything made sense; Remus's odd behaviour, the sense of mutual protectiveness that the townspeople showed him; and Dumbledore's biased affection for him. 'He was afraid,' Sirius said softly, when the silence had stretched long enough. 'John was afraid of losing his son; of losing the one thing he had left.' He remembered Remus's plea to not think of his father a bad man, and Sirius had not thought much about it, wanting to respect the other man's wishes. He still did not think of John Lupin as bad man; only desperate. On a certain level, he sympathised with John Lupin, understood him even.

And just like that, Sirius knew where Dumbledore was going with this.

'… _because I see within you, the beginnings of an old friend of mine; a man I could not save.'_

'Sirius, the reason I offered to take you under my wing was because I was beginning to see the same madness in your eyes as John Lupin. Back then, I had failed to see it; I couldn't even understand what it was that John was constantly plagued with. Some days, when you are with Harry, I see it in you and it scares me.'

Sirius shook his head vehemently, unable to believe his ears. He would never…he couldn't even think of doing to Harry what John had done to his son. He was protective of the young boy, but all parents were. 'I would never-' A traitorous part of his mind reminded him how he wanted Harry close by all the time; how he had never let anyone come near them; how he struggled even now to appoint a babysitter because he could trust no one with Harry but himself.  _I love him,_ he argued internally.  _It's different with us._ 'I-I would never-' Sirius found himself stammering, feeling as if he had a point to prove. 'I  _love_  Harry.'

'In Remus's case, love  _was_  the problem, Sirius. I'm not questioning your capability as a guardian but your-'

Sirius never found out what exactly Dumbledore was questioning as the door to his private office burst open to reveal Sarah, the receptionist, panting heavily. Her flyaway hair fell over her face as her eyes searched frantically around the room before settling on Sirius. She opened her mouth a few times fruitlessly, before she was able to string two words together. 'Dr. Black,' she rasped out, her chest heaving from effort. 'Your house…it's on fire!'

* * *

 **Soaked** [sohk]:  **to be thoroughly wet.**

'You are not hurt,' Remus tried to reassure Harry. He worried that perhaps he had done something wrong; yet, as he looked back, he was quite sure that he had followed all that Dumbledore had taught him in the early years. Remus was a good student; he rarely ever forgot his lessons and Fire Safety had been one of his firsts. 'You are not hurt,' he said again, hoping that Harry would understand that there was no reason to cry so hard into his shoulder. His fists, while small, were clutching hard enough to leave wrinkles on Remus's new shirt. The right side of his collar was very much wet and was growing progressively wetter as Harry continued to bawl. All these months spent with the boy, and Remus had yet to overcome the awkwardness of having a child on his lap. His hands hung limply at his sides as he leaned back to rest the back of his head against the vehicle wall.

Remus sighed heavily and looked outside through the little ambulance window. He could see very little through the smog that coated the surface apart from the steady jets of water that shot towards the ruined house. Little droplets splattered onto the glass and Remus pressed his fingers to it, counting each one in his head because he found it comforting. He was glad that Jermaine, the firefighter that had helped them, had been considerate enough to close the ambulance doors to give them both peace. Remus did not like loud noises; his ears were unaccustomed to them even after all these years. Dumbledore had joked once and told him to never move to London. Remus would move to London only to see the Queen.

 **Commotion** [k _uh_ - **moh** -sh _uh_ n]:  **agitation; noisy disturbance.**

'Sir, I need you to calm down!'

'Let me through! Let me fucking go…HARRY! Please, my Godson, he's-'

Remus's eyes widened and he hastened to push open the doors, spotting Sirius from the sea of people that were gathered around the area. Harry bumped against his hip bone painfully as he stepped out of the back of the ambulance, so Remus leveraged him up with one hand while he waved the other frantically. Sirius was being held back by a fireman and Dumbledore, his limbs flailing as he struggled to get free. Remus realised with horror that Sirius was trying very hard to go into the burning building. 'Sirius!' Remus called as loudly as he could, the pitch of his own voice jarring his senses and causing discomfort. He had always thought of Sirius as a moderately intelligent man; clearly not as smart as Remus but smart enough not to run into a burning building. 'Sirius!'

'Harry!'

'That's what I've been trying to tell you, sir, your Godson is saf-oof!'

Sirius pushed past the fireman quite rudely as he broke into a run. Remus only had moments to blink before he found Harry wrenched from his grasp and baby sharp nails scraped against the skin on his shoulders. Harry, if possible, wailed even louder than before as Sirius held him tightly to his chest and whispered, 'I'm sorry, love. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. You must have been so scared.' He rocked on his feet, burying his face into Harry's small shoulders such that Remus could see nothing beyond a mass of unruly black hair. 'I shouldn't have left you alone. God, I shouldn't have left you alone. I'm so stupid. Are you all right, love? Are you hurt anywhere?'

'He is not hurt,' Remus found himself repeating for the fifth time that day. He hoped Sirius would believe him. His hands fidgeted helplessly. 'I don't know why he is crying.' He looked past Sirius's shoulder to see Dumbledore approaching them and heaved a sigh of relief. Dumbledore understood these things better than Remus did and he was much more capable of exerting his emotions than Remus was. Perhaps, he could be of more assurance than Remus. Perhaps, Dumbledore could also tell Remus what he had done wrong so that Harry would not cry the next time Remus attempted to pull him out of a burning house.

Just as Remus predicted, Dumbledore laid a gentle hand on Sirius's shoulder 'I've talked to the paramedic officers; Harry's fine. It seemed he'd gotten hungry when he woke up and tried to do things on his own. But Remus came to him on time; the fire hadn't spread too far.'

'I broke an entry,' Remus informed Dumbledore proudly, before realising that this was not a good thing and apologising: 'I'm sorry, Sirius, but all the doors and windows were locked. So I broke the window with your gift.' He found his face falling and he apologised yet again, 'I'm sorry. I know how much you like nebulizers.' Remus had followed the book he had bought at the bookstore to a tee and it had advised that gifts had to be customised to the person you were giving it too. It had asked him to find out Sirius's likes and passions; which had brought Remus to the conclusion that as a doctor, Sirius would very much appreciate gifts related to medicine. Remus had initially wanted to buy an x-ray machine but could not find a suitable way to gift wrap it.

 **Disappointment** [dis- _uh_ - **point** -m _uh_ nt]:  **the state or feeling of being** **disappointed**

'You broke the window with a nebulizer?' Sirius asked, his voice sounding weak in contrast to his usual bark.

Remus nodded, hoping Sirius was not too saddened. He had been trying so hard to get Harry out that he had forgotten to go back for the nebulizer. 'I will buy you a new one, if you like?'

Sirius shook his head dumbly. 'That's not needed. Are you…' he swallowed, his eyes taking in Remus's appearance and shabby clothes.

 **Setback** [ **set** -bak]:  **impediment or obstacle**

Remus had wanted to look his very best for Sirius. Leandra, the tall woman who he had enlisted to help him get married to Sirius had dressed him in the very best suit (charcoal black with lovely grey stripes that Remus had wet with water in the sink so that he and Harry could breathe through the smoke). She had also taken him to the salon where she had asked the rather effeminate hairdresser for a dreamy haircut like Mr. Darcy. Remus did not know who Mr. Darcy was but did not have a very high opinion of him when the hairdresser had leaned very close to his ear, hand placed between Remus's legs, and asked if he needed a trim any place else. Remus had told him that Sirius thought his legs were rather hairy and perhaps a trim would help improve things.

'Are you all right?' Sirius asked, a shaky hand running across Remus's upper arm where soot had stained his once crisp white shirt. 'You aren't hurt, are you?' When Remus shook his head, he let out a trembling breath and tightened his fingers, so that he was gripping Remus's arm. 'That's good. Thank you, for everything you've done. Thank you for saving Harry; I don't know what I would have done without you.' He burst into a shaky laugh and let his hand fall, his fingers purposely brushing the length of Remus's arm on the way. 'If you weren't stalking me, Harry would have…' He choked and Dumbledore's grip on his shoulder tightened. 'Thank you,' he whispered again, running a possessive hand through Harry's curly hair.

In a few moments, Sirius had managed to do what Remus had struggled with for almost half an hour; he had managed to quiet the boy down. Harry's loud wails had now reduced to wet sniffles and small, almost dog-like whimpers. He was holding on to Sirius, much like he had been holding Remus – tight and unmoving. It occurred to Remus that perhaps Harry had been crying out of fear and not hurt. He also noted that cradling a child's head gently and rocking back and forth on one's toes diminished this fear considerably. It was a new and quite fascinating revelation.

'Sirius, Harry is clearly tired,' Dumbledore pointed out gently. 'Perhaps you should call somebody, a friend or a relative, to take you in for the night.'

Sirius shook his head sadly, 'We don't have anyone – no friends and the relatives I have are better off dead.' He smiled without humour. 'Guess you were right about me, after all, Dumbledore.' He ran a hand over his face tiredly, his fingers shaking. 'I haven't even finished paying for this house and I'm not sure how much coverage or savings I have. I…I don't know what to do…' His eyes took on a faraway look as he gazed back at what was once his house.

The fire had mostly died down now, but there wasn't much left to salvage but charred remains of the little house that Remus once thought was very pretty. He had liked the short staircases in the front and the little doorbell that he would always ring when he came to visit. He had liked how the yellow curtains were always pulled apart in the morning, so that Remus could peek in through the windows to see what Sirius was doing.

 **Guilt**   _[_ _ **gilt**_ _]:_ **a feeling of responsibility or remorse for some offense.**

'Sorry,' Remus murmured, shuffling his feet. 'I was never taught how to save a house.' He looked at Dumbledore pleadingly, hoping that if Sirius had misunderstood Remus's intentions or was angry at him for letting the fire go on, the old man would explain things to him. Remus could have tried, but he didn't know how. None of the books he had read had ever covered such a topic.

Sirius moved his hand from his face to look back at him, almost disbelievingly. 'What?'

Remus felt even more horrid. Sirius truly was angry. 'I have a house,' he offered as compensation, 'you can live there.'

For the first time since the fire, Harry looked up, a string of snot connecting his nose and Sirius's shirt. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and then his hand on his clothes. 'Will we really live in Moony's palace, Padfoot?' He asked, his red rimmed eyes growing big as he looked from Remus to Sirius. 'There's a swing there, Padfoot, and Moony lets me draw on the walls. We could play all day, and feed the duckies, and eat strawberries…' He broke into a wide smile, the blotchiness in his cheeks fading slightly. 'I want to live with Moony, Padfoot. Please!'

An odd bubble of something rose in Remus's stomach, lifting higher and higher until it stopped at his chest and burst into a million little bubbles. He found himself parroting Harry and looking at Sirius with large amber eyes. When he had offered his house, he had meant the shack on Twenty Fourth Street that Dumbledore had used for his therapy sessions in the earlier days when Remus's violent tendencies overtook his senses. It had once been Aberforth's, Dumbledore's brother, until he had left for the city and consequently bequeathed it to Remus. No one wanted to buy it anyway, Dumbledore had explained; because of all the stories about it being haunted by angry spirits of the past.

An honest part of Remus wanted to inform Sirius of the misunderstanding, but another part of him which had read  _Getting You Lover To Marry You_ quite thoroughly remembered that line fifteen on page thirty four had advised him to take every chance he got.

'Okay,' Sirius said grudgingly, conceding yet not quite meeting Remus's eyes. 'Just for a little while…till I find another way…we'll stay at Moon-Remus's.'

Remus has lived for twenty five years now. Due to his incapability to emote or feel many complicated things at the same time, he has always maintained a straight face, his facial features sitting at an angle of approximately a hundred and seventy four point two degrees. And though he has practiced it many times before in front of the mirror and forced his features to change on will many, many times as per the situation, Remus has truly never  _smiled._

Until today.

Today, on a sunny Sunday morning; July 25th 1985, Remus finally understood the term, 'a million dollar smile'.

The cause had been a man.

A man, named Sirius, who had said yes to living with him.

Very, very soon, this man would say yes to a lot more.

Remus decided, once he got home, he would write a formal thank you letter to the author of  _Getting You Lover To Marry You._

 **Progress**  [ ** _prog_** _-res,_ _-r_ uh _s_ or, especially Brit. _,_ ** _proh_** _-gres;_ **v.** _pr_ uh _-_ ** _gres_** _]:_ **a movement toward a goalor to a further or higher stage.**


	9. [hohld]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus has lived for twenty five years now. Due to his incapability to emote or feel many complicated things at the same time, he has always maintained a straight face, his facial features sitting at an angle of approximately a hundred and seventy four point two d though he has practiced it many times before in front of the mirror, Remus has truly never smiled.

'He did not hurt his legs,' Remus said pointedly, as he led them through the front gate. 'The paramedics checked him.'

'I know,' Sirius replied softly, too tired to argue with Remus or point out his utter lack of understanding human emotion or behaviour. Sirius had already checked Harry thoroughly, despite the insistence of the paramedic team that he was fine. He had subjected Harry through an hour worth of checkups and another hour and a half of signing off legal papers, collecting their passports for security, answering questions, and trying to acquire a few bare essentials for the two of them from the supermarket. He had done all this without once loosening his grip on the boy or even letting his feet touch the ground. Harry had wiggled, complained, and cried to be let go, but Sirius could not. He could not  _let go_. Fear had paralysed and locked his arms firmly around his Godson, refusing to move so much of an inch.

Sirius felt stupid; so, so stupid for thinking that he could leave Harry alone. Stupid for thinking he would be back in time. Now that he was idle, his thoughts and guilt overpowered his senses; everything he'd done wrong running around in circles in his head and reminding him of what he had almost lost.

Sirius had almost lost Harry.

Sirius had almost lost his reason to live.

He looked towards Remus Lupin, who was casually blabbering away about something or another. Strawberries, swings, and ducks were the only words Sirius managed to pick up in his daze. The other man seemed so blasé about the whole ordeal; almost as if he didn't understand the gravity of what he had done. Did Remus realise that he had risked his own life when he had climbed into a burning house? Did he realise that he had not only saved Harry's life but also Sirius's? Did Remus even have the capacity to understand any of this? Remembering his conversation with Dumbledore, Sirius doubted Remus did.

Harry sniffled in his sleep, startling Sirius into realisation that he had been staring at Remus for quite some time. He looked away quickly, feeling a hot flush rise to his cheek, and focused on their surroundings. Just by sight alone Sirius could tell that a lot of effort had been put into the front garden, though he very much doubted Remus was responsible for it. There were small strawberry patches and an impressive collection of red and pink rose bushes back to back with the light blue picket fence. There was a well-worn swing amongst the bright green grass, swaying slightly in the light breeze. It was fitted with a thin mattress and small yellow pillows sat haphazardly upon it. Harry had spoken of it many times to Sirius; tales of how Remus let him Harry sleep on the swing while he lounged in the grass below.

Sirius looked up at the sky, trying to mimic what his Godson and Remus Lupin saw while laying back on the swings, carefree and at peace. While the swirls of blue and white were mesmerising, Sirius found little comfort in it. His mind could not let go of the horrors he'd just experienced, of his pain and his responsibilities. He could not forget what he had almost lost and found himself holding Harry tighter and tighter, despite the small noises of sleepy protest from his Godson.

'Mrs. Poppins, could you please prepare the guest bedroom for Harry? You can lay down an extra blanket in my room for Sirius; he will be sleeping in my room.'

Sirius was immediately broken out of his thoughts. 'WHAT?'

He was about to shoot Remus the dirtiest look he could muster but was distracted by the sudden un-change in his surroundings. Perhaps that was not quite the way to put it, but Sirius could not describe Remus's house any other way. Blinking rapidly, he stepped backwards a few feet just to edge of the front steps. Sure enough, he could feel the warmth of the sun and slight breeze ruffling his hair. Frowning, Sirius stepped inside and looked up at the ceiling. Apart from the door frame, there seemed no discrepancy between the outside of Remus's house and the inside. The ceiling, it seemed, was made to mimic the sky outside. It wasn't made of mirror or glass like one would expect it to be, but  _painted_ so realistically that even the sharpest eyes could be deceived. In fact, it wasn't just the ceiling; it was the every single surface. The walls of the hallway had been painted to mimic endless forests; trees that curved inwards and looked so touchable. Sirius almost expected to feel rough bark underneath his fingertips as he gave into the urge to touch the walls as he walked past. The detailing was intricate; every vein on every leaf, water droplets glazing each strand of grass, small birds perching on various branches – all drawn with perfect clarity. There were no doors. On either side of the hallway, Sirius could see a kitchen and a living room – both following the same forest pattern though growing slightly sparser. The hallway ended in a set of white stairs carrying one floor up.

'You shouldn't worry. My bed is quite big,' Remus reassured, clearly misunderstanding Sirius's look of awe. 'But according to  _Getting Your Lover to Marry You,_ snuggling does not require a large amount of space.'

Sirius was not even going humour the Remus with a reaction. He didn't think he currently had the capacity to anyway. 'Did you paint all this?' He asked instead, not so subtly diverting the topic. Like hell he was going to sleep in the same bed as Remus Lupin; even if Remus's intentions only went as far as  _snuggling._

Sirius looked at Remus in time to catch the nod of affirmation, before his eyes wandered off to the paintings again. He remembered Dumbledore's recollection of Remus's past and also how fearful Remus had been when locked in the toilet cubicle. Of course someone who had gone through an ordeal this grave would crave an outlet. Sirius imagined Remus on his knees; brush and palette in his hand, working night and day to create a place where he felt free and fighting to keep himself indoors when every sense of his being screamed against it. Somehow, it felt very  _lonely._

'You're very talented,' Sirius commented softly, running his hands over the vines that ran up the handles of the staircase, tracing each thorny leaf with his index. The climbers extended in a haphazard fashion down each step and even under it. Remus truly had an eye for detail. 'This is just  _beautiful_.'

'Like you,' Remus replied almost instantaneously. ' _Getting Your Lover To Marry You_ recommends complimenting your partner on a regular basis.' He explained with a smile. 'You also have a very attractive body.'

Sirius felt his face grow hot and he quickly looked away, focusing on the floor (which was a mixture of cobble stone and grass carpeting) instead. 'Can you please show me to Harry's room? I need to lay him down.'

As if on cue, Sirius heard a female voice call for Remus from upstairs. A head popped out of one of the rooms not soon after, offering both of them a cheery smile. Mrs. Poppins was a woman so true to her name, it was frightening. It seemed that it was not only Remus who dressed like he was still living in the eighteenth century, but every member of the Lupin household. She was wearing a white full sleeved shirt, with lace on the sleeves and collar and a little red bow in place of the very top button. Her long black skirt flared beneath her white apron and swayed as she moved down the stairs. Her hair was parted down the middle and tied tightly at the back to look like a hot cross bun. All she seemed to be missing was an umbrella to fly her away.

'Master Lupin,' she said in an accent posh enough to rival Sirius's, once she'd stopped in front of them and clasped her hands formally across her navel. 'I've set up both rooms for you and I'll bring some hot tea for you and our guest in a little bit.' She nodded curtly at Sirius and smiled fondly at Harry before taking her leave.

Sirius's eyes followed her as she walked (glided, really) almost eerily through the hallway into the kitchen, her smile not wavering even once. It sent a shudder down his spine and he quickly looked away, hurrying after Remus up the stairs. 'I hope her first name isn't Mary,' he commented as he caught up with the other man.

Remus turned to look at him in confusion. 'No, it is Brenda. Why would you call her Mary?'

'You know,' Sirius offered as an explanation. When this was clearly not enough of a reason for Remus, he elaborated, 'Her last name is Poppins. As in, Mary Poppins – the flying nanny?'

'Oh,' Remus nodded in understanding. 'Yes, I like Mary Poppins very much. It was the first movie I watched with Dumbledore in the hospital. But her last name is not Poppins, it is Fuller.'

Sirius did a double take. 'Why the hell do you call her Mrs. Poppins, then?'

'Because I want to,' Remus replied like it was the most obvious answer in the world.

'But her- she is- oh, never mind!' Sirius rubbed his face tiredly and buried his face into the nape of Harry's neck, inhaling the sweet smell of baby powder for comfort. He didn't have the energy to argue or question anything at the moment. 'Do you ask her to dress like that for you?' He asked, giving into his curiosity.

'No, she has always dressed like this.'

Sirius felt stupid for even asking. Of course, she did. She worked for Remus Lupin, for God's sake. Sirius was surprised she wasn't prancing about in a rubber chicken costume. He sincerely hoped she did not mix anything strange into his tea. Then again, Remus was still alive though not so well, so her prowess in the kitchen could not be so awful. 'This room is empty,' Sirius realised aloud as Remus led them to the last room across the corridor. Unlike the rest of the house, which mimicked forests and grassy fields, this room had been kept stark white like a blank canvas. It did not look uninhabited, however, and it took a while for Sirius to realise that Harry must have played here every time he came over. There was a small single bed in the middle of the room and neatly stacked toys surrounding it, including a rocking horse that Sirius knew Harry had wanted for a long time. There was also a small not-quite-full bookshelf in the other corner. It had Harry's favourite magical book series (all seventeen) and a few others, along with a pack of crayons and paints. Sirius set Harry down gently on to the bed, before taking a better look at the room.

'I changed it. It is for Harry to fill,' Remus replied to Sirius's unasked question. 'He does not have much talent.' He admitted, pointing to the corner Sirius's eyes had initially neglected.

It was a small crayon drawing and Sirius recognised it right away to be a mimic of what Harry had drawn from his art class earlier. It was a drawing of a purple Sirius, hand in hand with a green Harry, and a yellow Lupin. It  _was_ a ghastly drawing, but Sirius found the corners of his lips tugging into a smile just the same. It was then Sirius realised how much effort had been put into this room. It wasn't a guest room at all; Remus had created this space solely for Harry. He had bought these toys and this bed; had whitewashed over years' worth of paintings; had even provided Harry the companionship that Sirius was often unable to provide. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had gone so far so effortlessly for Harry alone. He didn't think anyone had except for Dumbledore; at least not without an ulterior motive.

'He does not have very good taste also. He made Mrs. Poppins put glow in the dark stars on the ceiling. They are very unattractive.'

Harry was not an easy child to take care. He had a penchant for trouble and was constantly getting himself into situations that ended up with one of their heads stuck in a can or in certain cases, in a doggy door. Remus was not an easy pill to swallow either and his penchant for trouble tended to extend as far as trip to the police station. Yet, somehow, the two of them seemed to balance each other and cancel out any fines or angry phone calls Sirius was likely to receive. A more conclusive part of his brain suggested that Remus might actually  _love_ Harry.

Sirius suddenly had the urge to embrace Remus.

He quickly quashed down that urge and told himself to stop being stupid. In Remus's world, a hug would probably constitute a marriage and Sirius wasn't quite ready for that kind of commitment yet. Instead, he slipped under the bed sheets with Harry, carefully avoiding Remus's eyes as he tucked the both of them in tightly. Not wanting to sound ungrateful, yet frustratingly incapable of expressing of his feelings without looking like a sap, Sirius only managed a flimsy smile as he mumbled a, 'I'm just going to sleep for a little while…knackered.'

'Your toes are naked,' Remus pointed out.

Sirius wriggled them experimentally, feeling the cool drafty air between each toe. The bed was too small to fit a grown man in it. 'I'll be fine.'

'Your toes would not be naked in my bed,' Remus explained, his expression looking hopeful. Sirius half expected him to say that a lot more than his toes would be naked in Remus's bed, but nothing of the sort came.

He felt guilty again for seeming so cold and ungrateful but couldn't muster the strength to do much anymore. 'I'll be fine.' Sirius smiled again, genuine this time, and it seemed to placate Remus to a certain extent. 'I just need to be with Harry now. I can't leave him; not after everything that's happened.'

'He's not hurt,' Remus repeated for the umpteenth time. He looked more worried than before, however, as if not quite believing his own words. 'I checked. He's not hurt.'

'I know,' Sirius assured him, one hand reaching out to touch Remus's gently before falling away. 'This isn't about him being hurt.'

Remus frowned in confusion. 'Then what is it?'

Sirius sighed and looked up at the glow in dark stickers on the ceiling. There were four moons and what suspiciously looked like a cow jumping over one. 'It's…emotional I guess. You wouldn't understand.'

'Emotional,' Remus repeated, more to himself than Sirius. 'I see.'

He turned away, looking more downtrodden than Sirius had ever seen him. Guilt wrenched at Sirius's gut and it felt almost unbearable to see Remus's turned back walking away. Sirius felt the need to say something; anything to get rid of that look from Remus's face. 'Remus!' But when Remus turned to look back at him, Sirius really couldn't find anything reassuring to say. He felt liable to the odd childlike innocence and expectation Remus seemed to channel. 'Thank you,' he managed weakly, hating himself for not being able to say more. 'Thank you for everything you've done for us.'

* * *

Remus Lupin has never opened his own front door. Usually, he had Mrs. Poppins to take care of such trivial matters. But today, Mrs. Poppins was busy feeding Sirius because she claimed he was nothing but skin and bones and also fussing over Harry as the little boy slept in positions dangerously close to the edge of the bed. She had therefore asked Remus to be a darling and open the front door. Remus has always wanted to be a darling.

 **Stranger [streyn** -jer **]: a person with whom one has had no personal acquaintance.**

'Hello, is this the Lupin residence?'

There was an old man and woman at the front step. They did not seem familiar to Remus and Remus would know because in addition to a very high IQ, Remus also had an excellent vessel for memory. He rarely, if ever, forgot anything significant. The old man also did not seem very approachable; his eyebrows furrowed in a permanent line and his hard blue eyes framed behind thick framed glasses. He had tufts of silver hair poking between wisps of black; this alone was quite impressive as Remus had never met a senior citizen with a full head of hair. The woman appeared much kinder, however, with her warm hazel eyes and rotund figure. Her brown hair matched her eyes and her smile reminded Remus of Harry's; the kind of smile that forced you to smile as well. Neither of them was dressed like the townspeople either. But Remus could hardly judge since Mrs. Poppins and Dumbledore also had very odd choices of wardrobe.

'Oh dear,' the old woman worried turning towards her husband. 'Harold, I think we've come to the wrong house.' Her hazel eyes looked at Remus searchingly, 'Sweetheart, you couldn't tell us where the Lupin residence is; could you? We've travelled very far and it really is urgent!'

Remus could tell them but he did not.

'Can't you speak, boy?' The old man's voice boomed in frustration, startling Remus and sending him a few steps back. 'We're asking you a question, you should answer it!'

'Harold, don't be rude!' The old woman admonished.

'Harry asked me not to speak to strangers,' Remus said finally, feeling the need to justify himself in front of Harold, who was clearly looking down at him. He did not like the old man's hard gaze on him. He did not like how blue his irises were or how his thin lips stretched in a fine line with impatience.

'Pardon me?'

'Harry asked me not to speak to strangers,' Remus repeated more slowly, with an exasperated tone.

'Dear, he said Harry!' The woman told her husband excitedly. 'This is the Lupin residence, isn't it?' She asked Remus, leaning uncomfortably close to him. 'You're talking about Harry Potter, aren't you?'

 **Suspicious** [s _uh_ - **spish** - _uh_ s]:  **tending** **to** **cause** **or** **excite** **suspicion;** **questionable**

'Suspicious,' Remus voiced his thoughts aloud, quickly gripping the handle to close the front door. Suspicious people were dangerous. They took things from you and hurt you; and currently, Remus had a lot of things in his house that he did not want taken or hurt. 'Suspicious strangers,' he accused them, trying his best to close the door even though  _Harold_ had stuck his foot in between so that Remus struggled to close the door completely. Remus was just about to step on Harold's foot with all his strength (a tactic Harry had taught Remus very, very well for when suspicious strangers were involved), when Sirius's voice broke through their tussle.

'Mr. and Mrs. Potter? What are you doing here?'

'Sirius!' The old woman exclaimed, using Remus's surprise to push through and into the house. 'Oh thank heavens, we found you!' She hugged Sirius tightly and smoothed his long hair away from his face. 'We were trying to call your house, but the line just wouldn't go through. And then, Harold called Dumbledore and he told us what happened! We took the first flight here.'

'Where's Harry?' Harold interrupted his wife's concerned rambling as he stepped past Remus and into the house, much like his wife.

Remus concluded that they were not strangers, but he did not quite like how rude they were.

'Harry's asleep,' Sirius replied. Judging by his face, he did not seem very pleased by their presence either. Perhaps Sirius also found them rude. 'He's had a rough day; I don't want to wake him just yet.' Sirius's grey eyes shot from Harold to Mrs. Potter, and then settled down to his feet. 'I don't know how much you've heard and I understand you're worried, but I have everything under control. You don't have to-'

'Sirius!' Harold Potter's voice boomed on top of everyone else's.

Remus covered his ears with his hands and shut his eyes tightly. He didn't like loud noises; he was unaccustomed to them and they made his head hurt. Slitting one eye open, he looked at Sirius who did not seem to like loud noises either. In fact, it seemed that loud noises affected Sirius a lot more than it did Remus, since Sirius's entire body had started trembling. Sirius was also now only looking at Mr. Potter and his pupils seemed to have shrunk. Remus frowned, trying to place Sirius's expression in his memory.

 **Scared** [skair] **:** **to** **fill,** **especially** **suddenly,** **with** **fear or** **terror**

'Harold, please don't be harsh with Sirius. You know I hate it when you lose your temper like this, especially in someone else's house,' Mrs. Potter looked pointedly at Remus who was still standing with his hands over his ears, one eye peering at Sirius with concern.

Harold's face, if possible, turned redder. 'How can I stay calm when-'

'We should talk,' Sirius interjected quickly. 'If you'd just come in, I can explain everything.'

Harold seemed to want to say something more but was stopped by a stern hand on his arm, courtesy of Mrs. Potter. He seemed reluctant to go along with Sirius's request, but a look from Mrs. Potter had him nodding silently. 'Go on then,' he said gruffly, following Sirius inside. Mrs. Potter still had a firm grip on his upper arm and it did not let go even as he tried to shake it off.

Sirius nodded. 'Right. Remus, would you care to join us?' Startled at being addressed after such a long time, Remus met Sirius's eyes only to find an unreadable expression. 'Please?' he asked again, this time reaching out for Remus's hand and wrapping his fingers around Remus's. 'Please,' he repeated, but there was a change in his tone that Remus could not place yet again. 'Don't say anything. Just… _come._ ' For the umpteenth time in his life, Remus wished there was a manual to identify human expressions and emotions. Just as Sirius had pointed out earlier today, Remus simply didn't understand them. He wished Dumbledore had taught him more. Perhaps then, Sirius would be less reluctant to go out with him.

There were silent all the way till the living room, punctuated only by Mrs. Poppins asking if anyone wanted tea and biscuits. Remus had very much wanted some tea and chocolate biscuits but Sirius had still not let go of his hand as they sat down, and Remus felt that it was perhaps an inappropriate time to ask for sweets. Remus commended himself for his moment of intuition, when he noticed that uncomfortable tension between Mr. and Mrs. Potter and Sirius. Sirius, for his part, no longer had that expression that Remus did not like -the one where he seemed afraid but also much, much more  _something_. His face had set in a neutral expression, the one Remus had seen Sirius treat patients with; yet his hold on Remus's hand had not once faltered and only gotten tighter. Remus did not understand.

 **Concern** [k _uh_ n- **surn** ] **:** **to** **trouble,** **worry,** **or** **disquiet**

'I know you're concerned about Harry,' Sirius started, 'but I've got everything under control. I'm going to-'

'Sirius,' Harold interjected sharply, 'I'm going to cut straight to the chase. We're here to take Harry back. This isn't a negotiation.'

Sirius's hands shook within Remus's. 'It was a mistake, I admit, a grave one. But it isn't going to happen again, I promise.'

'Sirius, you cannot make mistakes with children, do you understand that?' Harold Potter leaned over so that he was looking directly into Sirius's eyes. 'You can't tell me that you're still learning or you're getting better at handling Harry now. You had your chances, Sirius, and this isn't the first time Harry's been in a life threatening situation because of your negligence. He's gotten lost, had multiple stitches because he's fallen when you're not looking, and now he was left unsupervised inside a burning building! Sirius, the list just never seems to end!'

'It will end, I promise!' Sirius defended; his entire body tensing. 'I'll keep him with me constantly if I have to. Trust me!'

'Sirius, we've kept quiet this entire time  _because_  we trusted you,' Mrs. Potter said softly. 'James has always thought of you as his own brother; Lily too. He trusted you with the title of Godfather and for that reason alone, when you said you wanted to take Harry under your care, we agreed. We felt that Harry would be happier if he had something of a father figure to look up to.' She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. 'I think we all know that the responsibility is getting too much to handle for you, Sirius. You're struggling.'

'I'm not-'

'Sirius, please; don't fight this,' Mrs. Potter pleaded, her eyebrows and lips turning downwards. She seemed as upset as Sirius, and Remus wasn't quite sure how to make the situation less tense. Sirius had asked him not to speak. 'Harry deserves better; you and I both know that. We can send him to a good school; give him a better house and environment to live in and a proper  _family_. You know we've supported you in all your life's choices, but the influence it has on Harry…I just can't accept that.'She looked pointedly at their clasped hands as she said emphasised her last statement.

When Sirius noticed this, he immediately let go of Remus's hand. 'We're not. I'm not dating anyone. I haven't-' he stuttered, his hands shaking just as much as his words. 'I don't have plans of ever getting involved. Harry's my first priority.'

'For how long, Sirius? It's not just Harry; will you be happy living like that, as well? Not having anyone to call your own; living alone day after day?'

'Dorea, stop,' Harold, who had been as quiet as Remus the entire time, finally spoke up. 'I don't think we've come here to negotiate or find a way to convince Sirius of our decision. It's done. We're here to take Harry back with us, no matter what. I'm sure Sirius will not argue when he has to hear our conditions.' He smiled, but it was not the kind of smile that made Remus want to smile also.

 **Cruel** [ **kroo** - _uh_ l]:  **rigid;** **stern;** **strict;** **unrelentingly** **severe.**

Harold clasped his hands together and leaned closer to Sirius so that there was barely any space between them. 'If you aren't willing to give up Harry today, Sirius, we both know how far a good lawyer and a lot of money can go. You don't have any savings and your house is in shambles. Even if you find a good enough lawyer, you can't pay him. I don't like playing dirty games, but I'm willing to do anything for my Grandson. I'm also sure that you don't want Harry to go through that kind of trauma, which is brilliant, because neither do we.' Sirius kept silent even though his jaw twitched incessantly. 'I know you love him, Sirius, but at the end of the day you're not his family. It might sound cruel, but the truth often is.' Sirius looked away, his hands clenching into tight fists. Harold Potter nodded, as if satisfied. 'I'll take that as a yes then. If you want to say goodbye to him first, I understand.'

Sirius did not say anything.

Remus felt that he should at least say something, but Sirius had instructed him not to. He did not want to upset Sirius anymore than he already seemed. So instead he watched. He watched as Mr. and Mrs. Potter walked away without a word. He watched as Sirius continued to sit in the same position, his fingernails digging hard into his palms and his breath coming out in short, sharp bursts. He watched as Sirius's eyes wavered from their steady gaze towards the ground as the noises of Harry waking up filled the heavy silence in the room. They could hear Harry's confused awakening and joyous cries of ' _Grandma! Grandpa!_ ' They could hear as Harry excitedly asked if they were going on a holiday and if Moony and Padfoot were coming with them.

'Remus.'

Remus did not hear Sirius call him the first time. Sirius's voice was lower than he'd ever heard it and at first, Remus did not even recognise it.

'Remus.'

Remus did not know if he was allowed to speak yet, so he simply turned towards Sirius to show that he was listening. Sirius was still looking at his feet.

'Hold me.'

 **Hold** [hohld]:  **to** **bear,** **sustain,** **or** **support,** **as** **with** **the** **hands** **or** **arms** **.**

Remus did not have much experience holding people. In fact, Remus had only held three people in his entire life: his father, Dumbledore, and Harry. And even then, he had never been the instigator, so he was quite at a loss as to the best plan of action. Not wanting to disappoint Sirius, he tried his best to mimic the way everyone else had held him. Slowly, carefully, he extended his arms to his shoulder level and leaned forward at the same time until their bodies touched. Remus brought his arms together so that they fell just under Sirius's shoulder blades. He had never experienced such level of proximity with Sirius and it was startling to realise that Sirius was much leaner than he looked. Sirius's head fell on to Remus's right shoulder and his eyes pressed into Remus's collar bone.

The front door clicked shut just after Mrs. Poppins cheery goodbyes. Harry's excited ramblings about toys and school came to an abrupt halt.

And it was then that Remus felt the beginnings of wetness trickle down the side of his neck. He did not understand at first. He did not understand the tremors underneath his hands or the breathy hiccups pressing against his crisp white shirt. He did not understand the almost painful way Sirius's arms had closed around him. He did not understand why Sirius refused to look up at Remus even as Remus tried to pull him away. All Remus understood was the need to make it stop. He wanted Sirius to stop…

 **Crying** [ **krahy** -ing] **:** **to** **weep;** **shed** **tears.**

* * *

'Are you getting in or not, sweetheart?'

 **Trepidation** [trep-i- **dey** -sh _uh_ n] **:** **tremulous** **fear,** **alarm,** **or** **agitation.**

Remus surveyed the dark bodice, the rusty metal handles, and not so appealing ripped leather interiors. The lady inside seemed just as battered, with her hair done in a messy blond bun and an unlit (and quite pointless) cigarette dangling from her lips. Her left foot was tapping restlessly as she surveyed Remus from behind her cracked sunglasses; and her fingers drummed a beat that seemed only slightly in tune to the music playing on the radio.

Remus has never really been in a taxi.

Remus was never been on a moving vehicle, for that matter.

Remus was a big believer in slow and steady. He had also discovered early on that fast movements made him nauseatingly dizzy; another side effect of having lived in a room all his life. It wasn't for the lack of trying; Dumbledore had achieved much with Remus. Remus could ride a bicycle without feeling too horrible and he was very good with carnival rides such as the merry-go-round and the first fifteen seconds of the spinning cup. Remus's disability had never been an issue before, since living in a small town guaranteed everything to be within walking distance. Remus liked to walk; it gave him time to see the sky.

'Will I be able to get there fast?' Remus asked, still very unsure. He toyed with the car handle, pulling at it curiously to see how far he could pull before the door opened. 'I need to get there fast.'

 **Emergency** [ih- **mur** -j _uh_ n-see] **: a** **sudden,** **urgent,** **usually** **unexpected** **occurrence** **or occasion** **requiring** **immediate** **action.**

'Depend where you're going, love. You won't get anywhere without getting in first.' Her eyes looked pointedly at Remus and then at the backseat of her car. 'Go on, then. I'll get you anywhere you need to go.'

Remus took a deep breath and nodded. 'I need to get to the airport,' he explained as he climbed inside and closed the door behind him. The seats did not smell very nice, but all the windows were rolled down so it did not bother him much. 'Harold and Mrs. Potter have taken away Harry. I must stop them.' The car jerked, making a little whirring noise as she picked up speed.

'Who's Harry then?' The woman asked, as she fiddled with the dials of her radio to pull down the volume of her music.

The scenery beyond the window blurred and Remus felt the first bouts of dizziness capture him. He put his hands on either side of his head to steady himself. When that didn't seem to help he buried his head right in between his knees, so that he was completely bent over. It helped, but only a little. 'Harry is a child,' Remus explained the best he could. He peered through the slits of his eyes at the speedometer that had risen well past eighty. 'They took him from Sirius and now Sirius is crying.'

The woman's head whipped around suddenly, the dangling cigarette falling from her lips in surprise. The car was still moving but she seemed too busy looking at Remus to look at the road. Despite Remus's inexperience with cars, his wide scope of knowledge told him that looking was usually a prerequisite to a safe drive. His stomach lurched and he closed his eyes again, burying his head so far that his nose was touching his ankles. 'Sweetheart, are you saying that this child was kidnapped?'

Remus frowned.

 **Kidnapped** [ **kid** -napt] **: to steal or carry off by force.**

'Yes,' Remus replied, nodding as it seemed to meet all the criteria.

'Dear, God, man! Did you tell anyone?'

Remus's hair blew into his face and tickled the sides of his ears. That barber had really done a horrible job with his haircut; Sirius had not once mentioned how lovely he looked. Remus had never like very long or out of place hair to start with. 'I have told you.'

'Don't you worry, sweetheart,' the driver assured him, though Remus was unsure of exactly what he was assuring her off. 'I'll take care of this.'

There was a lot he was worrying about. He was worried about Sirius's tears and getting to the airport on time; he was worried they would not have enough strawberries in the morning for all three of them, and he was also worried that he would have a vomiting episode that the taxi driver would not at all appreciate. He did not want to tell her to slow down as he really did need to get there quicker. Dimly, he wondered how much farther they had left but could not bring his head up from between his legs long enough to look. All he could hear was the wind rushing in his ears and the crackling of static as the driver made a call from her receiver. She seemed to be reporting an emergency situation in the airport about an abduction of a child. She must have said more, but it was at that point that Remus's stomach could not handle be kept at bay anymore and he quickly picked up the rug on the other side of the passenger seat and expelled his lunch. She was still on the receiver when Remus finished and also oblivious to Remus's transgressions.

Feeling guilty as Dumbledore had always taught him to be truthful and to never deceive anyone, Remus quickly put back the rug in place and said nothing of it for the rest of the journey.

 **Innocent** [ **in** - _uh_ -s _uh_ nt] **:** **not** **involving** **evil** **intent** **or** **motive**

* * *

' _Harold Potter? Can you please come inside with us for a moment; your wife as well. You can leave the child outside; Jeremy will look after him.'_

'Are you all right, love? You aren't hurt, are you?'

Harry looked up at the police officer, eyes roaming over his silver badge that read J-E-R-E-M-Y. Padfoot had bought Harry a uniform just like Jeremy's for his fourth birthday and it had been the best gift Harry had ever received, until Moony bought him that rocking horse. 'It hurts here,' Harry showed the officer the bruise on his knee from when Billy had pushed him in the playground. He widened his eyes and stuck out his lower lip in hopes that the officer would either kiss his bruise like Padfoot did or give him a slab of chocolate like Moony did. When the officer did neither, Harry found tears pooling in his eyes.

'Hey now, don't cry. Everything's going to be all right, I promise. We'll take care of them.'

Harry missed Padfoot terribly. When Grandma and Grandpa had told him that they were going to London for a holiday, Harry had been very excited because he liked planes very much. But Harry had never wanted to go without Padfoot, especially when Grandpa said that it would be a very, very long holiday and that if Harry liked London enough, he could stay there as well. Grandpa had said there were more toys in London, but toys weren't much fun if you did not have anyone to play with.

'I want ice cream,' Harry sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. Sludgy snot coated his skin and he wiped it away on the seat beside him. 'Padfoot always gets me ice cream when I'm crying.' In fact, Padfoot had gotten them all ice cream only this morning when Harry had been very scared. The fire had been big and yellow, and so, so hot that Harry had felt like it was burning. Harry had called for Padfoot many, many times from the window and Padfoot must have heard and sent Moony over to save him. Like all the superheroes, Padfoot and Moony saved people; only they were not very good at flying. 'I want ice cream,' Harry wailed, bursting into tears at the thought of spending time away from Padfoot and Moony.

'All right, all right,' Jeremy shushed, patting Harry's head gently which only made Harry feel worse because it reminded him of Mrs. Poppins who reminded him of Moony who reminded him of Padfoot. 'Don't cry. I'll get you ice cream. You just wait here like a good lad, all right? Uncle Jeremy will get you the biggest ice cream cone there is!' Saying so, Jeremy dashed off, leaving Harry all alone again.

If Hermione were here, she would call Harry a horrid cry baby, which wasn't very nice. Ron never went against anything she said and always shared his lunch with her instead of with Harry. Not that Harry minded very much; Mrs. Weasley's corned beef sandwiches were even more awful that Sirius's soggy chips. Harry continued to cry with his face buried in his hands, and little whimpers of Padfoot escaping his lips as eh hiccupped. He really was feeling very tired from all the crying and he hadn't even finished his nap, since Grandpa had woken him up in the middle of it. He was so sleepy that he felt like he was flying; his arms and legs dangling underneath him and the scenery changing as his whole body tilted to face the floor rather than the ugly row of blue chairs. His shirt collar pulled a little at the back and he smiled as shoes just like Moony's walked side by side with him.

'We're flying so fast, Moony!' Harry laughed, tears forgotten as he raised his arms in front of him and made aeroplane noises. 'Where are we going?' He asked, remembering that Jeremy had asked him to wait.

'Home,' Moony said swiftly. 'Shelter that is the usual residence of a person **.** Padfoot is crying, so we need to make him stop. **'**

Harry looked up as best he could. Moony did not look very well; his usually combed curly hair flying in all directions and his shirt un-tucked from his trousers and falling messily off his shoulders. Moony had many freckles on his shoulders. 'Padfoot is crying? Did he get hurt?'

Remus nodded his head and sped up, so that Harry's hip bumped against his knees. A few of the older people gave Remus dirty looks and one of them quite rudely told him that Harry was not a suitcase. It was a silly thing to say. Remus was the smartest person in the world; even smarter than Padfoot. He knew Harry was not a suitcase. 'He's hurt,' Remus said finally as they stepped outside of the airport, sunlight hitting Harry quite uncomfortably in the eyes. 'And he doesn't want to be alone.'

Harry swung a little so that he could hide his eyes from the light behind Remus's right leg. He felt very, very upset now that he knew Padfoot was crying. Very, very upset and also very much like he needed to see Padfoot so that he could kiss wherever he'd gotten hurt. The hurt must be big, Harry reckoned, because he had never seen Padfoot cry; not even when Padfoot had sliced one finger in half and had to go the hospital for the biggest stitches with the biggest needles Harry had ever seen. 'We should take a taxi!' Harry suggested, pointing at the nearest black car he could see. The driver was a lady who seemed to be lightly dozing in the front seat.

Remus turned away. 'Not that one.'

Harry looked up at Remus who was starting to look rather unwell at the thought of riding a taxi. 'Why not?' he asked curiously, his body swishing as Remus turned here and there in search of another taxi.

'There is vomit under the rug.'

* * *

'Drink up. It will make you feel better.'

'Thank you, Mrs. Poppins,' Sirius said, voice hoarse. His eyes felt itchy and tired; and the last thing he wanted to do was breathe. He wasn't quite sure what happened after the Potters had left, but it seemed that someone had been kind enough to carry him to bed when he'd fallen asleep from exhaustion. 'Please thank Remus on my behalf when he comes back. I know it must not have been easy lugging me here, all the way upstairs.'

Mrs. Poppins laughed shrilly. 'Dear, Master Remus can barely carry his cereal bowl to table.'

Sirius blinked, 'Then how did I-?' He looked at her sly smile and swallowed. 'Of course,' he stuttered, trying his best not to look at her arms or check for any kind of stubble that might be growing near her jawline. 'Thank you so much. For the tea and the…er…lift.' He could not find the strength to smile back at her and tried to cover up his reluctance by rubbing his face roughly. He did not know what to do now; his whole life had been Harry. He wondered if Harry would miss him. Of course Sirius wanted Harry to be happy, but a small, selfish part of him wanted Harry to be miserable without him – to cry and throw a tantrum until the Potters could not take it anymore.

'Oh dear, they're here already and I didn't even put the tea to boil.'

Sirius hadn't even heard the bell ring. 'They? Who-' He never had a chance to finish the question as Harry's loud calls of  _"Padfoot!"_  filled the room. He didn't question the authenticity or the fact that it could all be his imagination playing tricks on his mind. Sirius found his feet acting on their own accord, stumbling out of bed and barreling through the hallway and down the stairs at inhuman speed. His heart pounded madly in his chest and he could hear his own heavy breaths, as he spotted a familiar head of black hair running towards him. He didn't even bother with a graceful landing, stumbling through the last steps as he bent down to scoop Harry up in his arms and give him the tightest hug he could muster.

'Padfoot, Moony said you got hurt,' Harry worried, wriggling past Sirius's indulgent kisses to look Sirius in the eyes. He squished Sirius's cheeks between both hands and laughed when Sirius's lips pouted like a fish. 'Is it painful? Do you need a band aid?'

Sirius chuckled and shook his head. 'How did you come back? Weren't you with Grandpa and Grandma?' he couldn't help but let his tone slip into one of contempt as he asked about the Potters. He knew it wasn't their fault; he knew that they were only doing what they did out of concern, but no amount of reasoning could quell his sorrow.

'We took the taxi,' Harry informed Sirius. 'Moony was sick all over the driver so he kicked us out, and we had to walk all the way from Jones's, but it was fun. We had ice cream and mints.' He smiled widely, showing off the dark chocolate smudges in his teeth.

'Moony brought you here?' Sirius asked surprised, looking past Harry's mess of hair towards Remus. Hair in disarray, clothes wrinkled and deep purple bags around his eyes – he really looked worse for wear. Yet, for the first time since they'd met, Sirius found him truly beautiful. Everything down to the last freckle on his thin, fragile noise; Sirius thought was utterly gorgeous. It was the second time today that Remus had saved Sirius's life and sanity; perhaps he'd been too harsh and quick to judge after all. 'How did you convince them?' He asked, walking in a daze towards Remus. Instinctively, he smoothed down the wonky curls atop Remus's hair, gently tucking them behind his ears. 'What did you say to them?'

'I did not say anything,' Remus replied, his usual monotone sounding an octave lower from weariness. 'I simply brought Harry back home from the airport like you wanted.'

Sirius's hand stilled. 'Are you saying you kidnapped him?'

Remus frowned. 'No. I did not take him by force. He came when I asked him to.' He put in a little bit of thought before continuing, 'I did not steal him also, since he was my friend to begin with.'

Harry nodded as if to affirm this. 'We were waiting for the plane, and then four police officers took Grandma and Grandpa to a room, and then Remus came, and said it would be much nicer to go home, so we came.' He and Remus shot Sirius identical proud smiles.

 _Fuck._ Sirius let out an incredulous laugh. Was he really expecting a negotiation from Remus Lupin? _Fuck._  Harry and Remus together spoke of nothing but trouble. 'Come here,' he commanded Remus gruffly, pulling the other man by the back of his neck and pressing their lips together.

'Eww! Kissing!' Harry covered his eyes in horror.

Sirius laughed again, using Remus's surprise to delve his tongue in, tasting mints and an undercurrent of something a lot less pleasant. A quick brush against Remus's tongue and Sirius was pulling away, leaving a soft lingering kiss against the corner of Remus's lips when he saw the other man reluctant to part. He smiled when he noticed Remus's lips still parted and pouted as if waiting for an encore.

'Does this mean you will marry me?' Remus asked softly, his eyes fluttering open.

'No,' Sirius laughed, feeling giddy and manic, and strangely not at all afraid of what was to come. After all, it was  _only_  the police that was going to come looking for him for attempted kidnapping. The police and Mr. and Mrs. Potter. It wasn't as if Sirius hadn't been in jail before; he and James had had their share of minor offences and nights spent in the cell.

Remus looked disheartened. 'Why?'

'Because I don't know you.'

Remus scrunched his face in confusion. 'My name is Remus Lupin. I-mph!'

Sirius cupped a hand over Remus's mouth. 'What I meant was that I'll take the opportunity to know you. If I ever manage to get out of jail after this, I promise to go on a date with you.' Remus's amber eyes lit up and he was clearly trying to say something behind Sirius's hands, but Sirius didn't bother setting him free. Every time Remus spoke, Sirius realised, a disaster was inevitable; and Sirius had just about had his quota for disasters for the day. 'One chance,' Sirius warned, 'that's it.'


	10. [fan-see]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus has lived for twenty five years now. Due to his incapability to emote or feel many complicated things at the same time, he has always maintained a straight face, his facial features sitting at an angle of approximately a hundred and seventy four point two d though he has practiced it many times before in front of the mirror, Remus has truly never smiled.

' _Smoking?'_

_Sirius didn't turn around; he did not want anyone looking at his face. The Potter family had been having a Christmas party when he'd come in. They had all been privy to the display of ugly bruises and the cuts across his upper lip and forehead, but his red eyes and splotchy cheeks were his to keep. He was_ _**Sirius Black.** _ _He played pranks and made horrid passes at sweet, innocent looking lads (and occasionally an old cat lady if she was offering free cookies). He_ _**did not** _ _give in to silly human emotions nor did he allow himself to look pathetically vulnerable in front of others. He did not cry._

_He was Sirius Black, damn it!_

_Only, he wasn't a Black anymore._

_He was a meager scorch mark on the family tapestry._

' _James snores,' he offered as explanation to the unspoken question of why he was up at two in the morning, smoking instead of sleeping. 'You shouldn't have put me in the same room as him,' he muttered derisively, knowing full well that the double meaning behind his words was understood._ _ **Don't put your little baby boy in the same room as the big bad faggot; God knows what could happen.**_

_There was a soft sigh followed by the gentle plop of a warm body sitting itself down next to him. 'I wish you wouldn't do that.'_

' _Smoke?' Sirius asked, playing oblivious._

' _Among many things,' was the only answer Sirius received and it didn't make him feel any better. His dwindling self-esteem only sunk lower and not for the first time today, he wished the Earth would open up and swallow him. 'Sirius, stop it!'_

_The reprimand caught Sirius by surprise and like a child caught doing something wrong, he found himself quickly stubbing out his cigarette against the wall. He looked guiltily at his feet when he realised he had left a mark on the Potter's freshly painted blue walls._

' _Not this,' Sirius was scolded further, with a pointed look at the now ruined cigarette. 'Well, yes; smoking as well, but I meant that you need to stop blaming yourself and putting yourself down. Sirius, love, you haven't done anything wrong, do you understand? There is nothing wrong with_ _ **not**_ _being racist bastard, and there is nothing wrong with choosing your own path in life, even though you seem too unfocused to ever have a path; and least of all, there is nothing wrong with being gay.'_

_**Lies.** _

_Sirius's let out a weak laugh, his arms wrapping around his knees protectively. 'If it's not wrong, then why did I spend the last three years of my life hiding it? If it's not wrong, then why does everyone fucking hate me so much? If it's not bloody wrong, then why do I feel so fucking miserable and ashamed of myself all the bloody time?' Those traitorous tears that Sirius tried to so hard to hide pooled in his eyes and he quickly blinked them away, feeling even more ashamed of himself. 'Unconditional love and shite – that's what your family is there for, isn't it? Who the hell made up that fucking lie?' He panted loudly, putting a hand over his mouth to keep the obscenities from spilling. He'd said too much already. Far, far too much considering that he was supposed to be nonchalant and uncaring about the whole matter. He had done such a good job at pretending, too. He had laughed and pulled pranks all day with James; gorged on Christmas puddings till he was sick and even humoured the Christmas spirit with a little bit of off key singing._

_**Fuck.** _

_He was out in the open now; his feelings lay bare. Everyone was going to judge him. Mock him. Pity him. Strip the last shred of dignity he's managed to hold on to._

_**Fuck.** _

' _Sirius.'_

_There it was. That look of pity._

' _I'm sorry.'_

' _Stop apologising.'_

_Sirius stood up quickly, nearly tripping over his feet in haste. 'I should get to bed. It's getting late.'_

' _Sirius,' A firm grip on his right hand stopped him in his tracks. 'It isn't a lie; families_ _ **do**_ _love unconditionally._ _ **We**_ _love you unconditionally.'_

_Tremors: Sirius could feel them start at the very tips of his toes, like electricity climbing painfully across every neuron in his body. His shoulder shook so violently that he had to hold on to them tight enough to hurt; his arms forming a cross of support across his chest. His knees knocked against each other, ankles bending as he nearly caved to the invisible force that seemed to be pushing him down. 'I should go to bed,' Sirius repeated, his voice breaking as he willed his feet to move. 'Goodnight.'_

* * *

'Did you ever hate your father?'

Remus opened one bleary eye, pupil trying to focus on Sirius's face. Beside him, Harry stirred slightly before going back to sleep. 'No. I love my father.'

'Why?' Sirius asked, wringing his hands together. 'After everything he did to you, how can you still love him so much? It's unnatural. You should be angry at him; hate him; despise him…'

'I understood him. My father was afraid of being alone. If Harry had gone, you would have been alone and without you, Harry would become me.' Remus closed his eyes sleepily and dug deeper into his pillow. 'Anger only brings forth hate and Dumbledore told me that only misery is born from hate. M **iz** - _uh_ -ree: wretchedness of condition or circumstances. It does not sound very pleasant.'

Sirius smiled at the simplicity of the thought. 'No, it doesn't.' He had a sudden urge to stroke Remus's hair but resisted. He felt weak, afraid, and so, so vulnerable that every inch of his body was trying to hold on to any semblance of control he had left. His brain was racing with plans; Plan A, Plan B, Plan Z. What happened if the Potters reported him? What happened if he went jail? Would Harry be all right without Sirius; miss him even for a bit?

'The door was open.'

Sirius broke out of his thoughts to look at Remus. He then turned to look at the bedroom door before remembering that none of the rooms had doors in the Lupin house. Apart from the front door, every single room had nothing but a frame and leftover hinges from when, Sirius presumed, there  _had_ been doors. Not for the first time did Sirius find pity welling up for Remus Lupin; for both his circumstances and his sickness.

'When my father died, the door to my room was open,' Remus continued, his eyes willing Sirius to understand. 'Only  **he**  had the key.'

'Oh.' Sirius did not have much more to say. John Lupin was a doctor; he had probably known he was dying at that very moment and had struggled to set his son free. Sirius understood what Remus was trying to say despite the vague nature of his speech and the underwhelming tone of his voice. What he did not understand was Remus's repeated defense of John Lupin's intentions and John's overpowering love for his son. Yet, in a sick sort of way, Sirius hoped that Harry would be the same. If Sirius did ever fall into the path of Dumbledore's fears, then he hoped that Harry still loved him. So far, it seemed all Harry had managed to pick up from his stays at the Lupin house was Remus's penchant for trouble and an odd love for green grass.

'You're a good man, Remus,' Sirius admitted with a half-smile. 'You're a really good man and I didn't even thank you properly for bringing Harry back because of all my worrying.'

'You can thank me now,' Remus replied pouting his lips and looking up at Sirius with unbridled hope.

For once, Sirius did not blush at Remus's blatant attempts at wooing him. 'Don't ruin the moment, twat,' He laughed putting a hand across Remus's mouth and pushing him away gently.

'I was creating a moment,' Remus replied through muffled words. 'Was it not right?'

' _Master Sirius, there's a call for you.'_

Sirius turned to Mrs. Poppins and sighed. He had been expecting the call sooner, really; two hours had already passed since Remus and Harry got back. Unlike Sirius, the two of them seemed to haven't a care in the world. They had both had dinner, watched the telly and giggled endlessly about something or the other until both Mrs. Poppins and Sirius had announced their bed times (Harry had insisted Remus bunk with him). Sirius had sat at their bedside all this time, his feet tapping a hole into the floorboard as he tried to distract his nervous energy by speaking to Remus. He looked back to see Remus had fallen fast asleep, finally free of Sirius's anxious chatter.

'I'm coming.'

Sirius discovered that Mrs. Poppins' appearance was extremely deceptive and she was not the slightly odd housekeeper that she seemed. Which did not mean that she wasn't odd. It seemed, however, that Mrs. Poppins had a nursing degree from the same school as Sirius, top of the class and destined to succeed. A year after graduating, she found herself unemployed because she had a tendency to get extremely attached to her patients – a trait that was never good in anyone in the medical profession. After the loss of one particular patient, a child she had grown to love very much, she had had a mental breakdown and been admitted to the hospital for therapy.  _Conveniently_ , Dumbledore had appeared at that very moment to offer her a solution: Remus Lupin. It was the perfect match; Remus was ( _is)_ weak and in need of constant care, and Mrs. Poppins had both the qualification and the empathy necessary for the job.

Dumbledore, Sirius concluded, was a sneaky old bastard who knew how to pull just the right strings.

'Oh, Sirius, it took us forever to get this number. The officers here are just horrible.' Sirius could hear some scuffle in the background and Mr. Potter's gruff voice asking someone to ' _unhand me this very instant!'_ Sirius could not help the slight smile that spread across his face. 'I'm so worried; I don't know what's happening. We were stopped at the airport for some nonsense allegation for kidnapping made by a cabby and they separated Harry from us. And now they say they've lost him.' There was a huge dry sob on the other end of the line. 'Sirius, please tell me…' Another sob and a sniffle, 'that Harry's run and found his way back to you…'

Sirius let out a weak laugh. 'Yes,' he replied, feeling all the pent up tension leaving his body. 'He  _found_ his way back to me; heh. He's a smart lad, Harry is.' In his defense, Sirius reasoned that he was technically not lying but simply adjusting the truth. Harry  _had_ found his way back (in Remus's arms) and Harry  _was_ a very smart lad (second in class, despite his tendency for trouble). 'I just put him to bed; he's safe and unhurt.'

There was a whoosh of breath from the other side as both Mr. and Mrs. Potter sighed in relief. 'Oh thank goodness; we were so worried.' There was a slight scuffle from the other end as somebody announced that they were nearly out of time and Mrs. Potter was required to put the phone down now. 'For heaven's sake! Sirius, can you please explain to this officer that we are  _not_ kidnappers!' Sirius could hear Mr. Potter mirroring her sentiment in the background in a much harsher tone. 'They refuse to believe us and it really is an inconvenience. We haven't packed enough for jail!'

Sirius rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. 'Mrs. Potter, can you let me know your location, please? I'll come in and have a chat.'

As if able to read his mind, Mrs. Poppins appeared with a pen and paper for Sirius to take down the address of the station. She stood there patiently as he made his customary  _mhm's_ and  _yes, yes, I know the one's;_ then handed him a glass of water as he collapsed on to the chair from relief. He hadn't expected it to go so easily. To be honest, he had been expecting nothing short of a burst through the door and the police barging in to handcuff him. In his younger years, Sirius had been in many instances where he'd found himself unexpectedly handcuffed. This would be the first incident where he would not have an erection to accompany the situation. In the past few hours, Sirius had managed to make a game plan for escape and life as a fugitive – some of which were leftovers from his school days with James; back when they were constantly getting into trouble.

'I'll take care of Harry,' Mrs. Poppins assured, even though Sirius had not asked. His face must have given something away. 'Please do not look like that, Master Sirius, I am highly proficient in taking care of children. I have, after all, taken care of Master Remus from the very beginning and he is no better than a child.'

Sirius had to concede that she had a point. However, and this he found quite odd, he found that it was much more of a consolation to know that Harry was with Remus than with Mrs. Poppins. It had perhaps to do with the fact that Remus Lupin had saved Harry's life and brought him back from the clutches of the Potters. And while Harry did seem to get into more trouble with Remus around, he generally stayed out of the categories of 'death' and 'possible loss of limb'. 'Thank you, Mrs. Poppins,' Sirius replied, despite his misgivings. 'I will leave him to you then. I shan't be long so please, if you need anything at all, just give the station a call.'

* * *

'There he is! Sirius, please explain to this officer here that we have  _not_ kidnapped Harry. He is our grandson, for God's sake!'

'Madam,' the policeman, Harvey, explained impatiently, 'We have it in our records that Sirius Black is the official caregiver of Harry Potter. Having the last same last name does not automatically make you his grandparent and being his grandparent does not automatically make you his guardian. I can name several cases of abuse where the family themselves are responsible.'

'This is ridiculous,' Mr. Potter's voice boomed. 'I will not stand here and listen to you accuse me of abusing my own grandchild!'

'Sir, you do not have a choice. You are behind bars!'

'Sirius, tell them!'

'I don't know them.'

'WHAT?' Both Mr. and Mrs. Potter turned to Sirius incredulously.

Sirius made a show of walking up and down the front of their jail cell and peering at them contemplatively. 'I have never seen them before and my little boy came back home crying. I've never seen him more distraught.' He smirked at Mr. Potter purposefully before turning to the officer. 'I don't know what they would gain by taking him from me; except for the Black family fortune that I've been cursed to inherit,' he went on woefully. From the corner of his eye, Sirius watched as the officer's eyes widened in recognition; something Sirius anticipated the moment he had dropped the Black family bomb.

'Sirius, stop this at once! This isn't a joke!' Mr. Potter rattled the bars, his face going red courtesy of his legendary temper. 'Tell him the truth at once!'

Sirius turned fierce eyes towards Mr. Potter. 'No, it never was a joke,' he said gravely. 'Sorry, Officer, I honestly cannot recall ever having seen these people. The  _truth_ is,' he quoted straight from the horse's mouth, 'I'm not family.'

Both Mr. and Mrs. Potters' mouths snapped shut.

The officer sighed. 'There are obviously some unresolved issues going on here,' he punctuated here with an awkward circular hand motion. 'Honestly, my only concern is whether that child is safe or not and it seems he is. Once you've reached a decision on your status, feel free to give me a shout.' He shook his head as he walked off, muttering  _nutters_ and  _bloody London folks_ under his breath.

'Sirius-' Mrs. Potter started but was interrupted by her husband.

'No, let me, please. Sirius, I-' he hesitated, drawing in a shaky breath. 'I apologise. When I said those things to you, I was angry, but that doesn't change the fact that it was completely out of line.' He held out a hand through the bars, beckoning Sirius to come closer.

Sirius didn't, suddenly realising that he had been hurt by Mr. Potter's words far more than he should. He stood his ground even when Mr. Potter pleaded with wide eyes. 'Perhaps you don't remember, Mr. Potter; the night I ran away, you told me that you loved me unconditionally like all family did. It was such a large claim to make and I was so insecure that I tested you for months after that.' Sirius chuckled humourlessly. 'After all, I was the child who's own mother had rejected him out of disgust. But you, Mr. Potter, you never lost your patience with me. I constantly got myself into trouble; amped up my pranking; got called into the principal's office more often than not; and then that one time, when I had almost died…'

Mr. Potter's face turned white as if in remembrance of that day in the quarry when Sirius's stupidity had gone a leap too far and his heartbeat had stopped for mere seconds before the doctors had revived him again.

'I never thought of you as an inadequate parent, even after that day,' Sirius admitted, coming closer to the bars so that he was face to face with both the Potters. 'And I try to be to Harry how you were to me. I admit, I'm not perfect and perhaps this isn't an end to my mistakes, but Mr. Potter, I care for Harry more than I can explain. I would do anything for him because without him, I would be utterly miserable. I'm not in any delusions of being his father, but is it wrong to love him like he was my son?'

When both the Potters failed to reply farther than an exchange of guilty looks, Sirius sighed and turned away. 'Officer,' he called out, no longer looking back to see the Potters reactions. What was to come would come and if the Potters decided to take Harry from him then Sirius would have no choice but to let them. 'It seems I had a little bit of a memory loss! I've finally remembered who they are!'

* * *

'He has no talent.'

Sirius looked up from Harry's drawing. 'I would like to think that it is creatively abstract,' he replied defensively. 'Like Picasso and the likes.'

'It is meant to be a dog.'

Sirius scrutinised Harry's drawing, turning it one way then another and squinting his eyes to slits in hopes that he could see what Harry saw in the largely unintelligible scribbling. 'It's a German Shepherd,' Sirius tried to reason, more with himself than anyone else. No parent wanted to admit that their child hadn't a creative bone in his body. No parent would especially want to admit that a man like Remus Lupin, who still needed his nanny to announce his bed time, could be right. 'Or a Grim; the mythological type. You need to look closer.'

Taking Sirius's advice to heart, Remus moved closer until his nose was pressed against the paper. He was resting on his haunches like a pup; amber eyes wide and curious. Something Sirius discovered about Remus tonight was that he liked to paint sat on the floor. 'I do not see it,' he answered truthfully, squinting much like Sirius had. He balanced himself by putting a hand on each of Sirius's knees. 'I have talent, but I do not see it.'

'You do not need talent to see it. You need faith.'

Remus frowned. 'Faith?'

Sirius nodded. 'And a decent amount of love.'

'Love?' Remus repeated, seeming more confused than ever. 'Why love?'

'Because love is blind,' Sirius replied, rubbing a smudge of paint from the bridge of Remus's nose. It turned red to match Remus's flushed cheeks under Sirius's attention and Sirius squashed down the cooing voice in his head that pointed out how adorable Remus looked. 'When you love someone, everything about them seems brilliant – even a painting like this.'

Remus nodded thoughtfully, sitting back down on the floor. 'I see,' he said gazing back at his own painting of castle grounds on a rainy day. . Remus's specialty, it seemed, was textures and surfaces. Currently, he was working on copper, creating a truly beautiful work of art. The brush strokes seemed almost effortless; fluid and soft. Though not yet complete, to Sirius, it looked surreal – as if the dark stone castle thrummed with hidden magic and stories that it was itching to tell. 'This is very confusing,' Remus stated, looking back up at Sirius, 'I love Harry, but I think his art is ugly. Yet, I love you and I find you beautiful.'

Sirius just barely resisted the urge to slap his forehead. 'There is no end with you, is there?' he groaned, falling back against the couch. 'Honestly, why me? Got enough on my plate without you adding to it. Of all the people in the world, why did you have to choose me?'

Remus blinked and for the first time since Sirius met him, it seemed Remus did not have a smart mouthed answer to give. This only made Sirius feel worse because it indicated how serious Remus was about him. With Remus, this wasn't a game. There were no casual dating or fancies; no trial periods and definitely no fooling around. Sirius was either in or out; and while every brain cell was screaming Sirius to run for the hills, his heart could not deny the fact that he  _owed_ this to Remus. He  _owed_ Remus Lupin his life, not once but twice. He was indebted to Remus forever for not only keeping Harry safe, but also motivating Sirius to finally take a stand against the Potters. While the Potters had still not formally announced their decision about Harry, Sirius knew they would not deny him. They had already left for London and called to say their goodbyes after all; something Sirius had more than settled for. Remus had also opened up his home to them until Sirius had his insurance and another house sorted out; and while the past week, Sirius had adamantly bunked with Harry, he knew things would eventually have to change.

If anything, Sirius knew that he would at least have to give Remus a chance.

And if that chance did not work out, what then? What if Remus proved too much for Sirius: too immature, too ridiculous, too clingy, too  _Remus._ And Harry – he would never forgive Sirius for ruining the first proper friend he's had since they moved here.

 _When did Sirius Black start to overthink things?_ James's voice taunted within Sirius's head.  _What happened to the idiot who would just do or die; jump off a cliff blindfolded; take the fucking chance! Coward!_

'Sirius?'

Sirius jolted into reality to find Remus peering curiously at him. 'Sorry, what did you say?'

'I said I wanted to paint you.'

'Me?'

'I like to paint the things I like,' Remus explained logically.

Sirius looked back at Remus's currently unfinished painting. 'You like castles?'

'I like stories.'

Sirius raised an eyebrow. 'And you like me?'

'I love you.'

Sirius sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

_You really have changed, Sirius._

Sirius wasn't sure whether the disappointed voice in his head was James's or his own. They always did sound and look alike – they were often mistaken for twins and Sirius, deprived of a family of his own, had never done anything to dissuade the rumours and misgivings. James would have taken the chance, but then, if Sirius thought about it, not really. James was the cautious one among the two of them; the one who believed in one true love. It was James who always warned Sirius against playing around, and James who constantly worried that Sirius would get stabbed one day by a stranger he'd decided to take home (which he almost did – an encounter he would rather not remember).

So then whose voice was it really, echoing in his head?

'Well, go ahead then,' Sirius conceded with a sigh, 'but you aren't allowed to do anything weird with the finished picture.'

'Weird?' Remus asked, confused. 'What would constitute as weird?'

'You know,' Sirius flustered, struggling to explain exactly what men occasionally (in times of great desperation) did with pictures of the people they liked. 'Stuff,' he said, blushing further when he realised his right hand was making horridly lewd wanking gestures. He quickly stuffed both hands inside his pockets. Judging by the wide eyed expression Remus was giving him, Sirius had a sinking feeling that the poor man knew nothing about tossing off. It made Sirius feel like a pervert corrupting the innocent sensibilities of a child. 'Stuff like spilling ketchup over it while eating chips.' Inwardly, Sirius kicked himself hard in the arse for coming up with the shoddiest excuse in the world.

'Oh,' Remus nodded in understanding. 'Mrs. Poppins does not allow me chips very often. She mentioned that it is not good for my cholesterol.'

There was more than just cholesterol blocking Sirius's arteries; affection for this silly, silly man being one of the many. Laughter being another. 'Go on then,' Sirius urged, getting comfortable on his chair. 'Paint away.'

'You will need to take off your clothes,' Remus said as he lined up his brushes and paints. He mentioned it so casually that Sirius was almost sure he'd misheard. 'Your clothes will stain otherwise.'

Whatever little of his thoughts Sirius had managed to salvage out of the gutter went straight back in. 'Excuse me?'

'You are wearing my clothes,' Remus pointed to Sirius's too tight shirt and trousers that were progressively doing more and more damage to Sirius's nether regions. With all the drama that had been going on with the Potters and the fire, Sirius hadn't really had any time to shop. Even Harry was wearing clothes borrowed from the Weasley's youngest son, Ron (originally a hand-me-down from the eldest, Bill Weasley). 'Mrs. Poppins gets angry when I get paint of my clothes.'

'Oh, right…'

_You're thinking again! Always thinking, thinking, thinking! Just stop! Stop and go with the flow and maybe something good will happen! That's what the old Sirius would have done._

The old Sirius had also almost gotten stabbed once and nearly contracted an uncomfortable STD.

_Coward!_

'Bedroom!' Sirius yelled, blushing when he realised he had screamed a bit too loud. He looked back to see if he'd managed to wake Harry but the little boy was steadily dozing in his bed; no hint of being disturbed. 'We can do the painting in your bedroom. I don't want Harry to wake up and…' _see me make a fool of myself;_ Sirius did not say the last bit aloud. 'You'll have more privacy and quiet as well. Why don't you just gather your paints and brushes; and I'll head there first, all right?'

Remus shrugged. 'All right.'

Sirius swallowed and nodded. 'Right.'

_Just go with the flow. Don't back out now. It's just a painting - a very, very nude painting._

Sirius stopped at the mirror in the hallway, looking at his reflection with unsure eyes. He traced the sharp angles of his face, the rough stubble of his cheek, and the dark bags under his eyes. There was a time when Sirius prided himself for his looks, but four years of parenthood had left him with very little to admire. How long had it been seen someone had seen him naked? This wasn't just about a painting. Sirius was, for the first time in years, finally opening himself up to someone...

So where now?

Sirius looked away from the mirror, finishing the last few steps to Remus's bedroom and then finding his breath catch. How, Sirius wondered, had he never noticed this bedroom. Had he been that hell bent on avoiding Remus's advances?

The room was a master piece. Sirius had no other words to describe it, but as Remus's finest work. Like the rest of the house, the walls had been painted to mimic landscape, but unlike the forests and fields that adorned the rest of the house, this was of mountains and lakes and rolling hills. Sirius had to move closer and touch the walls to convince himself that there truly was no lake in the middle of the room. The surface was also differentfrom the rest of the house; he didn't have enough artistic knowledge to know what Remus had done but walls themselves seemed to be reflecting some kind of light.

_Moonlight..._

Sirius looked up and gasped. The ceiling was made entirely of glass so fine that it looked non existent. The entire night sky stared back at him; the stars numberous and bright against the obsidian of the sky. Moonlight shone through, bouncing off the walls and lighting up the room with an ethereal glow. The room was bare save for a large garden swing and afour poster bed, whose hangings were made of a sheer silvery material. Still entranced by the his surrounding, Sirius slowly let his clothes drop, hands moving on their own accord across buttons and zips. Suddenly, he no longer felt apprehensive. Suddenly, he  _wanted_ this. He settled down on the bed, shivering and only slightly self conscious, as he wrapped his arms around his naked body. The curtains billowed against him, moving steadily inwards from a slight breeze - the room must have built in ventilation, masked behind the artwork, to also mimic the atmosphere outside.

So entranced was Sirius with the sky above him that he when he felt wet fingers brush his clavicle, he jumped and toppled clumsily to the side of the bed. 'What are you doing?' Sirius asked, his wide eyes surveying Remus's outstretched hands. Dark blue paintdripped onto the bedsheets from Remus's fingers. 'Where's your canvas?' He looked past Remus as if expecting one of his many white canvases to simply waltz in on its own.

Remus sat back, putting his palette aside. 'You are my canvas,' he explained quite simply, 'why else would I ask you to take off your clothes.'

 _Right. Why else would you ask me to take off my clothes._ Sirius felt his face burn in humiliation. He wasn't even sure what he'd been expecting from all this but this was certainly not it. He wasn't even sure how he felt now, as he hid his face behind his wild black hair - disappointment?  _No! Ridiculous!_ To prove to himself that he felt nothing of the sort, Sirius sat back against the pillows, letting his arms fall from his lap to his sides and spreading both his legs in front of him. Unable to form any words, Sirius nodded his head in indication that he understood. Not that Remus needed his permission as bright amber eyes studied him with a fierce intensity. Remus was taking in every single detail of Sirius's form, mapping out angles, curves, and imperfections. He seemed almost unblinking and Sirius matched his gaze, his throat tight as if waiting for some kind of verdict. He felt a violent shiver run down his spine at the first touch of Remus's fingers against bare skin.

He breathed out and closed his eyes, feeling the drag of wet fingers starting from his collar bone in a straight line and then curving at his navel. Dark blue paint stained his body in concentric circles; Remus's fingerprints adding the smallest details across his skin. The strokes were painfully slow at first - careful, precise, as if still unsure where this was going; but they grew faster and more confident with time. Remus had climbed over him now, straddling his knees as each finger dipped spastically in various colours of paint - shades of blue, white, silver, a mixture of grey and black. So many colours yet they blurred against Sirius's skin in careless strokes.

Remus's fingers moved up his neck, the pinky of his left hand reaching behind the curve of his ear. His face leant closer, eyes squinting in concentration as he painted in the detailing up to his hair line. Sirius could feel the warmth of Remus's breath against his cheek, the sweet smell of chocolate overpowering his senses. Unconsciously, his body arched upwards and urged his face to move closer to Remus's. His knees were straining to stay straight, fighting the urge to bend and wrap themselves around Remus's waist to ( _dear God!_ ) pull him closer.A flick of Remus's fingers and a press of calloused palm across his chest; Sirius's fingers were clutching the sheets tightly as he breathed hard and fast. His body was thrumming by now, his toes curling from the need and desire for Remus's fingers to move lower. He tried to distract his mind with thought of muffins and patients back in the hospital; anything to keep his arousal under control. Sirius was only thankful for the trance that Remus seemed to have seeped into that kept him from noticing Sirius growing erection.

'I cannot paint if it's standing.'

Sirius groaned, letting his head fall backwards into the pillow. He felt his cheeks heat up with shame as Remus's frown got deeper and his pain stained fingers tried to work a way around Sirius misbehaving cock. The worst part, it seemed, was how despite the utter humiliation Sirius was feeling, his erection was showing no signs of relenting and even had the audacity to twitch its way to full mast. 'Fuck this!' Was all Sirius managed, before he wrapped a hand around the back of Remus's neck and pulled him into a fierce kiss.

Their teeth clashed painfully, but Sirius held onto Remus regardless, not caring when his lips slipped messily onto Remus's cheek or when his tongue left a generous layer of saliva across Remus's lower lip and chin. He ignored Remus's muffled protests and the slippery slide of their bodies as Remus overbalanced and fell into Sirius's chest. Whatever it was that Remus had been trying to paint had turned to a mess of colours smearing across their chests, bellies, and streaking across Remus's cheeks, hair, and neck where Sirius had held him in place. Mrs. Poppins would not be happy with the sheets tomorrow morning.

'Off,' Sirius commanded; not bothering for Remus to respond and pulling Remus's shirt off with one swift gesture. The top few buttons popped, rolling all the way under the bed, followed by Remus's trousers. Alarm bells rang shrilly in his head as he hooked both thumbs into Remus's underwear. He was probably going to regret this later but Sirius had long thrown caution to the wind, along with the last shred of Remus's clothing. 'Fuck it,' he told himself again and again.

Only when air had become an issue did Sirius relent and detach their lips. He rested his forehead against Remus's, panting hard and gazing up at Remus with glazed over eyes. He'd never seen the scars so clearly before; but now, in the stark moonlight, each of Remus's self inflicted injuries looked like a lattice of silvery thread winding and capturing the length of his naked body. Sirius could think of nothing more beautiful as he mapped the ones closest to him with the tips of his fingers.

'Are we having sex?' Remus panted against Sirius, his lips brushing the tip of Sirius's long nose.

Curious eyes searched Sirius for answers but all Sirius could manage was: 'What?'

'Are we having sex?' Remus repeated. 'Because I've only read until How to Seduce Your Lover and am yet to apply it practically. Sex Games is two chapters after.'

Sirius stared at Remus incredulously. 'Are you serious?'

Remus shook his head. 'No, you are Sirius,' he pointed out helpfully. 'I am Remus.'

Sirius wondered if he should simply glue his palm onto his forehead as he seemed to be in a perpetual state of exasperation with Remus. 'We are having sex,' Sirius replied firmly, marvelling at how his erection maintained its standing despite his annoyance. Clearly, he had been deprived for too long. 'So shut up,' his tone was final as he turned them over, pushed Remus into the bed and pressed their lips together. He had the right sense of mind to pull the curtains around the bed before losing himself into the body beneath him.

From here after, Sirius never gave Remus an opportunity to speak. Dominating him with bruising kisses that trailed from his lips, down to his neck, chest, stomach, and then much, much lower. He was fuelled on by Remus's reactions to his touch - it seemed that much like his conversation, Remus had no filter on his actions. He had no insecurities or a sense of how he  _should_  move. He moved honestly, just as his body wanted - arching so high that he seemed to nearly lift off the bed. His eyelashes fluttered closed and his lips twisted attractively as Sirius prepared him one finger, then two, then three. He cried out when Sirius entered him, soft little whimpers escaping him as he tried hard to adjust. All the while Sirius watched him, mesmerised. Every drop of sweat that trickled down the curve of Remus's body; every cry and bite of lip; and as he began to move, he watched Remus's precum slide between their bodies.

'Does it hurt?' He asked gently, one hand reaching up to wipe the sweat from Remus's brow and cheek.

He watched Remus's Adam's Apple bob with a deep swallow as Remus opened his mouth to speak. No words seem to come out; nothing but short heavy breaths. Finally, Remus shook his head, light brown hair falling into disarray.

It seemed, the only way to shut Remus up was sex.

How convenient; Sirius smirked as he began to move. He kept the pace slow and easy, despite his body's protests. And when Remus was coming, Sirius held him tightly to his chest as if absorbing the spasms that shook through the other man's body. He laid small kisses on Remus's temples, his hair, his cheek; whispering soft assurances and praises into his ears.

'What now?' Sirius asked himself after Remus had promptly fallen asleep, too exhausted to even move out of Sirius's arms. Sirius looked up at the night sky and the mess of paint across his belly. Remus had been trying to paint the sky, Sirius reckoned, or perhaps the galaxy (judging by the smeared streaks of silver and gold). How fitting for Sirius - the seemingly brightest star in the sky.

He turned his head to look at Remus who was snuggled deep into his shoulder. Even in his arms, Remus seemed  _fragile and so impossible small_. 'What now?' He asked himself again, as he realised that his heartbeat hadn't calmed down but only sped up at the sight of Remus's sleeping face. His skin tingled everywhere they seemed to be touching and an overwhelming tide seemed to be sweeping past his stomach and upto his throat. His head felt light, yet his vision felt brighter and clearer than ever. Sirius knew those signs; he'd seen the very same symptoms far too many times in the years he'd known James and Lily.

_Shit._

_What the hell is happening?_

It seemed Sirius was starting to fancy Remus...

 


	11. [trans-fer-mey-shuhn]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus has lived for twenty five years now. Due to his incapability to emote or feel many complicated things at the same time, he has always maintained a straight face, his facial features sitting at an angle of approximately a hundred and seventy four point two d though he has practiced it many times before in front of the mirror, Remus has truly never smiled.

'My beautiful sheets!'

Remus was awoken, quite rudely if he may say, by Mrs. Poppins screaming her disbelief right into Remus's ears.

 **Unpleasant**  [uhn- **plez** -uhnt]:  **displeasing; disagreeable; offensive.**

'Master Remus, you shall rise this very minute! I cannot believe the mess you have made after I have told you time and time again that you are  _not_ to paint on your bed or in the vicinity of the curtains! After everything I have taught you, it seems that it has all fallen on deaf ears! This is…'

 **Reprimand**  [ **rep** -ruh-mand, -mahnd]:  **a severe reproof or rebuke by a person in authority.**

'Make that damn banshee shut up before I have her choking on my socks,' Sirius grumbled beside him, pulling his pillow over his head. The sheets slipped away slightly, revealing Sirius's lower back and the initial swell of his buttocks. There was a rather generous hand print on the right cheek that disappeared underneath the sheets. Remus looked away quickly, feeling his cheeks and ears burn with an unexplainable heat. Remus had read of such reactions before; it was often associated with shame or humiliation, in accompaniment of an increased heart rate, sweat collection in chosen areas of the body, and an inexplicable urge to look down. Yet, as he looked down at his lap, he found yet another symptom that had very little to do with shame. He crossed his legs experimentally, noticing that his symptom seemed unhampered by this shift in position.

 **Arousal** [ _uh_ - **rouz** ] **:** **to stimulate sexually.**

Mrs. Poppins closed a hand around Remus's wrist and pulled gently. She knew he did not like force; she knew because Remus had refused to get off the bed for two whole days because she had pulled him hard enough to leave a bruise (a fairly small one that might have been more red than blue). 'I have placed your towels in the bathroom and the bathwater is at exactly 40 degrees centigrade, Master Remus. Make sure you wash behind your ears. You do not want me coming in and personally scrubbing your bony bottom, do you?' Remus did not want her scrubbing his bony bottom at all; it was rather embarrassing. 'Good, up you get! There's a good lad.' Mrs. Poppins patted Remus on the shoulder, gently urging him to put on his slippers as he obediently got off the bed. 'Please do not touch any of the switches, Master Remus. You too, Master Black, you need to get up.'

'The hell I am,' Sirius grouched, pushing his face further underneath his pillow. Remus worried he would soon run out of air. 'Have you ever heard of privacy, Mrs. Poppins?'

'There are no doors in this house, Master Black. Surely, you had enough foresight to know that privacy is not a top priority,' Mrs. Poppins shot back in a tone Remus only heard when his maid was particularly displeased.

Remus surveyed the bed carefully, taking in the large smudges and splotches of paint that coloured Mrs. Poppins crisp white sheets a deep blue. There were also a few fingerprints on the crimson curtains surrounding the four poster where Sirius had pulled them hastily shut last night. Again, Remus found himself with displaying symptoms of both shame and arousal. Having read many books on propriety and etiquette, Remus knew that his symptoms were considered indecent in front of womanly company. In an effort to be gentlemanly, he carefully picked up his discarded trousers and pulled them on. He did not notice Sirius watching him as he did so.

'What are you doing?' Sirius's rather unmanly scream broke through Remus's concentration and he was startled to see Mrs. Poppins and Sirius engaged in a tug of war over the sheets.

'Master Black, you will unhand my sheets immediately and march yourself to the shower!'

'I will unhand these sheets when you will leave this damn room!' Sirius yelled back, pulling at the sheets hard enough to rip as he desperately tried to wrap his lower half with it. 'I'm sure it has already caught your attention, but let me inform you that I am not wearing anything underneath these gosh darn sheets that you seem to be so intent on cleaning!'

Mrs. Poppins scoffed. 'Master Black, please do not flatter yourself. I have taken care of Master Remus since he was eighteen years old and am perfectly accustomed to the male anatomy. Had you so blatantly not called attention to  _it_ ,' She looked pointedly at the rather large splotch of paint strategically placed over Sirius's crotch, 'I might not have noticed  _it_  at all.'

Sirius spluttered, face going horribly red.

 **Compliment**  [kom-pl _uh_ -m _uh_  nt]:  **an expression of praise, commendation, or admiration.**

Remus found himself feeling rather proud of both himself and Mrs. Poppins powers of perception. His wife had also once complimented him on his rather fit anatomy but he had disregarded most of what she said because she would often say things that seemed rather… _mental._ If Remus's memory had served him correctly, she had once called him a gummy bear and threatened to eat him. He had only been slightly afraid. However, right now, his actions seemed rather foolish. As he watched Sirius pull the sheets hard enough to make Mrs. Poppins stumble and then angrily stride out of the room, Remus came to the realisation that he had been rather foolish to marry her. Sirius was nothing like his ex-wife; she had pink hair to start off with. But Sirius also made him feel very different. Remus was not very accustomed to different, as he was a strict follower of certain routines. Yet, this was a good different. It was a kind of different that made Remus…

 **Happy**  [ **hap** -ee]: **characterised by or indicative of pleasure, contentment, or joy.**

'Are we having a pool party, Moony?' Remus looked down at Harry, who was yet again sucking his thumb and looking up at him curiously, dressed in nothing but his light green underpants and a small white towel around his shoulders. 'Why are you blue? Did you fall down on your painting?'

Remus shook his head. 'No. I fell on Padfoot.'

Harry frowned, adjusting his towel around his neck. 'Did you have a paint fight?' He looked visibly upset at, Remus guessed, being left out of what would be a rather fun experience. Remus had had minor paint fights before with Harry; but never with oil paints. They were difficult to work with.

Not wanting Harry to be too disheartened, Remus settled on telling him the truth. 'No. We had se-mph!' Remus's eyes widened in shock and slight panic as he found his mouth clamped shut by Mrs. Poppins rather chunky hand. He could taste the salt of her skin as he struggled to complete his sentence (Remus did not like incomplete sentences; grammar was of utmost importance). He did not particularly like the taste of her skin; it was nothing like Sirius's and only made him want to move away.

'Master Remus!' Mrs. Poppins scolded shrilly, startling both Remus and Harry. 'I have taught you time and time again about propriety and self-awareness. Have you learnt nothing at all?'

'I wore trousers,' Remus tried to say through the trap across his mouth, extremely disappointed that Mrs. Poppins hadn't noticed his rather thoughtful gesture. He struggled a little more before Mrs. Poppins released him and then said again, 'I wore trousers.' He hope she would look a little less annoyed with him, mainly due to the fact that she was scaring Harry into clutching Remus's leg in a rather cowardly fashion. It was difficult to walk, Remus thought, when you had a child attached to your leg. Lucky for his trousers, as Harry rough towel would have otherwise cause much unwanted chaffing against his skin.

'This is ridiculous.'

When Remus and Harry arrived in the bathroom, they found Sirius immersed in the large claw footed tub (a gift from Dumbledore) with bubbles in his hair. He looked rather grumpy as he stared at the pair of them – Harry still curled around Remus's right leg and rather enjoying the ride, given by his joyous laughter. He seemed completely oblivious to the limp he was causing Remus and also to the rather precarious position of Remus's trousers. Already, Remus had twice felt air whistling between his legs uncomfortably.

'I insisted Harry get in the bath with you,' Mrs. Poppins bustled in, collecting the dirty bed sheets that Sirius had abandoned at the foot of the tub. She glared at Sirius with a displeasure that Remus did not understand. 'I trust you have enough manners to control yourself in front of your own Godson.' Remus was glad that Sirius seemed just as confused by her words as he. 'I am not blind, Master Black,' she growled in annoyance, holding the dirty sheets up above her head, 'I can perfectly see that there is more than paint staining these sheets!'

'What else did you and Padfoot play with, Moony?' Harry asked, looking up.

Remus shrugged. He wondered if "cocks" would classify as an appropriate answer to Harry's question.

Sirius on the other hand seemed to be turning very red. Remus hoped it wasn't because the water was too hot; Mrs. Poppins rarely made a mistake with Remus's bath temperatures. 'Remus is not a child for you to be monitoring his every move and trying to defend his honour,' Sirius spat out, rising slightly out of the water and making it overflow onto the tiles. 'He can make his own decisions and choices in life. You cannot keep sheltering and controlling every aspect of his life; you are not his mother!'

 **Mother** [ **muh _th_  **-er] **:** **a** **female parent.**

Mrs. Poppins was not Remus's mother but he felt himself bristle slightly towards Sirius as he said this. He did not want Mrs. Poppins upset; she was very important to him. She was the only one who knew how to make Remus's chocolate chip waffles when he was having difficult days. Such days would be more difficult without her.

 **Defensive** [dih- **fen** -siv] **:** **serving to defend;** **protective**

Before Remus could reiterate how important Mrs. Poppins was to him, he was interrupted by the woman herself. Her face was a colour very akin to Sirius's as she put her hands over her hips. 'Do not forget, Master Black, that the very reason I am here  _is_  control. It is routine that keeps Master Remus a functioning human being; it is shelter that keeps him from breaking down or hurting himself; and it is my affection for him that is keeping him alive rather than just living!'

Remus did not feel good. His chest felt very tight.

So did his leg.

He looked down to see Harry holding on to him much harder than before, his face buried within Remus's trouser folds. He was making a whimpering noise that Remus had learnt from experience meant that he was going to cry very, very soon.

'You're restricting him,' Sirius argued on, his voice growing closer to a growl. The grey in his eyes swirled. Remus had never seen Sirius so angry; not even when Remus had proposed for the fifteenth time since their meeting. 'You aren't doing him any good by keeping him locked in a little cage for the rest of his life! If you want him to function like a human being, then first and foremost, let him be one!' His palm met the side of the tub loudly, causing both Harry and Remus to jump.

Remus was sure Harry had already started crying. There was wetness spreading across his trouser leg and Remus had no history of wetting himself when frightened or upset. Feeling rather sorry for the young boy, Remus patted his head in what he had observed previously as a soothing motion. Sirius seemed to notice their distress and quieted down, stopping midway of whatever he was about to say next to Mrs. Poppins. He did not seem to care that Mrs. Poppins was also rather visibly upset as his eyes skipped past her shuffling feet and creased brow, and instead focused on Harry instead.

'Fine then. If that is how you feel. Well, Master Remus,' Mrs. Poppins started, her voice shaky as she turned away from them. 'It seems you will be able to go to the book signing after all this year.' She shot one last glare at Sirius, her blue eyes burning like cold flame, 'I'm setting you  _free_.' Saying so, she stomped out of the bathroom, clearly in a strop. Remus did not like the look in her eyes.

 **Hurt** [hurt] **:** **to cause mental pain to; offend or grieve**

'I'm sorry for yelling,' Sirius sighed, leaning back against the tub and sinking in deeper into the water. 'Harry, sweetheart, come here.' When Harry whimpered and clutched at Remus's leg even harder, Sirius's lips turned downwards. He extended his hand and beckoned the both of them closer. 'I was mean,' he admitted, reaching both hands to hook under Harry's armpits and pulled him into the tub in one quick move. 'I'll apologise, I promise.' Again his hand reached out, but this time to pull Remus in, waiting only seconds for Remus to pull off his trousers. Remus noticed that he had pulled on Sirius's underpants in his haste to impress Mrs. Poppins. 'I'll apologise,' he repeated, but this time to Remus, looking him straight in the eyes. 'I have a rotten temper and I sometimes say things I don't mean,' he explained softly, one of his feet rested over Remus's under the water. It seemed deliberate. It was weird, though Remus did not find himself complaining. 'Don't look like that at me, please…'

Remus did not know how he looked. Most people told him he looked impassive. Some told him he looked handsome.

'Will I really be able to go the book signing?' Remus asked, trying to change the topic as he felt unequipped with answers to what Sirius was asking of him. He was never very good at conversation and Sirius made it harder so. 'I am never allowed. Mrs. Poppins tells me I cannot.'

 **Disability** [dis- _uh_ - **bil** -i-tee] **:** **a** **physical** **or mental handicap, especially one that prevents a person from living a full, normal life**

'Don't be ridiculous. You can do anything you want.' Sirius scoffed as he moved a little to make space for all three of them. Remus made a mental note in his head to find a bigger bathtub. Luckily, Harry was small enough to sit on Sirius's lap. 'I'll damn right take you there if you want. Where is this book signing? There's only one bookshop here, isn't it? I didn't think a little town like Lewes hosted any big authors.'

'It's in Brighton,' Harry piped up, answering on behalf of Remus. He reached for the bubbles crowding in the corner of the tub, cupping his hands together to pull them toward him. 'Moony talks about it all the time, don't you, Moony? Lots of people come there and tell you how good the book is. It makes Moony feel good because he only ever reads such things in letters.'

One of Sirius's eyebrows rose. He seemed very fascinated by Harry's knowledge.

'I see. When is it? I start work again next week, but if it's before that, I could accompany you in the flight.'

Harry and Remus giggled. 'Moony doesn't ride planes, silly!' Harry chuckled condescendingly.

'Right, of course, it's a closed area,' Sirius righted himself, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. 'Train then…'

Harry and Remus giggled harder, splashing each other with water and bubbles in the process.

'Car?' Sirius asked confused. 'You kidnapped-er- _brought_  back Harry in a taxi, didn't you? I remember. So you're going by car!'

'I vomited,' Remus informed him, not wanting to recall the rather nauseating car ride. Remus really did not like closed vehicles. They made him feel trapped and anxious, and very much like he was never going to get out. Like he was never going to get out and this time his father would not be there to open the door. 'I vomited in the backseat.'

'Twice,' Harry nodded, holding up two fingers.

Sirius's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. 'How in God's name do you travel then?' he asked, clearly exasperated by the two of them.

'Unconscious,' Remus informed him.

'I'm sorry, what?'

'When I was ill, they would move me between hospitals unconscious so that I do not…' Remus did not know how to explain his problem. It was shameful and spiteful, but it was a thing he could not control. He did not understand it enough to explain it, but Dumbledore always told him not to consider it as bad, but as something that he needed to fight. 'So that I am not a…'

 **Monster** [ **mon** -ster] **:** **any creature so ugly or monstrous as to frighten** **people.**

Sirius frowned. 'I told you not to do that.' He reached out for Remus's face, thumb swiping the corner of his mouth and cheek. It was gentle and not very effective if Sirius was looking to wipe away leftover paint from Remus's face. 'Look, I'll take you, all right,' his voice was harsh but his words seemed gentle. It was confusingly contradicting. 'I'll figure out a way to get you there; maybe when you're asleep or something. I promised to take you on a date, didn't I? Consider this one; has me get off easy as well.' He kissed Remus lightly on the forehead before leaning back into the water. Harry slid around from the movement, giggling.

'Does this mean you're getting married, Padfoot?' Harry asked, blowing bubbles into both their faces and having some stick to his hair in process. 'Mrs. Weasley said that if you kiss somebody, you should do the right thing and marry them.'

This was good news as Sirius had kissed Remus many times last night.

'We are cancelling those play dates with the Weasleys,' Sirius muttered, his lips twisting in a sneer. 'We're not getting married, love,' he replied, much to Remus's disappointment.

'But you kissed Moony,' Harry chastised. 'It's bad if you don't marry him now.'

'We marry those we love,' Sirius tried to explain. 'I like Moony but I don't love him yet.' He did not look at Remus as he said this, choosing to scrub his already clean arm.

'What do I do to make you love me?' Remus asked, feeling rather unsure. He was sure a trip to the bookshop would prove fruitful. After all, his last book had given him everything it had promised, though he had not quite finished studying it. His fingers and toes curled in both anticipation of a good book as well as fear that he may never be able to make Sirius love him enough to marry him. Remus did not like this feeling of uneasiness. He did not like how close to desperation the meaning of his feelings seemed.

'It isn't that simple, Remus.'

Remus would have to try harder.

* * *

Harry screamed.

Remus screamed.

Sirius laughed.

It was no secret that Remus loved the outdoors. He was always seen in his back garden feeding the ducks or walking from shop to shop as he waved at everyone he knew. Remus loved the outdoors because it represented his freedom. It represented what his father had died giving him and Remus celebrated it. However, nothing could compare to how he felt now. As a man who's trade was in words, he found his vocabulary inadequate. He could not describe the enthrallment he felt, nor could he explain the heat of the sun against his pale face;the breeze ruffling his clothes haphazardly; the colours that meshed together to form trees and grass and houses; and the blue open sky. He screamed because Harry had said it would be fun to scream. Remus had never considered Harry very knowledgeable, considering his lack of age or sufficient brain power. But he would have to concede to Harry's brilliance just this once. He was yet to understand why screaming made him feel this way, but he understood that it had much to do with the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

 **Liberation** [lib- _uh_ - **rey** -sh _uh_  n] **:** **to** **set** **free**

'I had a feeling you would like it,' Sirius laughed and Remus could feel the rumble of his laughter against his chest. It was a sound Remus had never heard coming from Sirius and in Remus's opinion, it was much more beautiful than any form of laughter Sirius had every displayed earlier. 'God, it's been years since I've been on a bike; feels like coming home.' He stopped at a red signal and turned back to face Remus, his grin clearly visible through his helmet window. He bumped the head of his helmet with Remus's. 'Not feeling nauseous, are you?' He seemed satisfied when Remus shook his head. 'And you, lad?' he asked Harry, who was strapped tightly to a sidecar and wearing so much protective gearing that you could barely see his limbs or the true colour of his clothes.

Harry simply screamed in joy, waving his hands up and side to side. 'This is fun, Padfoot! Can we go faster?'

Sirius laughed again, looking back on the road and revving his engine noisily. 'Feels good, doesn't it, lad? Did you know I had a bike just like this one when I was in school. Drove your grandma and grandpa mental, it did!' He set off with a jerk, causing Remus to wind his arms around Sirius's waist even tighter. 'Loved that little contraption; polished it and blew every bit of pocket money I got from the Potters on gadgets and parts. I was practically  _married_  to it.'

Remus felt a rather irrational jealousy towards this motorbike.  _He_ wanted to be practically married to Sirius. No, that is not right. He wanted to be _actually_ married to Sirius. 'Where is it now?' he asked, wanting the answer to be: 'nowhere near here'.

'I sold it,' Sirius said quietly and Remus had difficulty hearing over the roar of the wind. 'When Harry came into my life, I needed whatever money I could get. It fetched me a good bit, too. This one isn't quite the same, but it was the closest the rental had. I'm honestly just excited to have it; would have loved to buy it.'

Remus realised that perhaps a nebulizer had probably not been his best thought out gift. He would have to rethink his list of gifts that he had created for every occasion of the calendar – an advice he had picked up quite helpfully from the book he's been reading. Remus did not dwell on it much further though, wanting very much to enjoy the view and the excitement that was slowly growing within him when he realised that he was  _travelling_. Remus had never  _travelled_ anywhere before; not farther than the local supermarket or the clinic. He had never been anywhere but his little town and as the scenery started to change (minor ones like the arrangement of trees, the unfamiliar faces), Remus found his awe growing.

Remus rested his head between Sirius's shoulder blades to be able to see the man they'd left behind. He was fixing little garden gnomes on his front lawn and Remus wondered if Sirius would know where to get purchase them. Remus had been looking for garden gnomes for years now; though to be fair, the first two years he had been looking for  _real_ gnomes. It was difficult to imagine a world different from the books his father had bought him. It had taken a lot of intensive sessions in the clinic to convince Remus that Dumbledore was not Merlin, the wizard.

'Feeling sleepy?'

Remus blinked as he felt Sirius's palm rest on top of his hand. 'No,' Remus answered back, slightly confused, though he was not going to complain about the feeling of warmth that seeped through his skin at Sirius's touch. It was happening a lot lately; odd tingling sensations every time Sirius touched him and heat pooling in Remus's cheeks at the slightest gestures from Sirius. Remus wondered if it was a side effect of sexual intercourse. It was rather inconvenient.

'Well, we're almost here, so hang on, all right. What was the place called again; Rock, Paper, Scissors, right? Real mouth full that one.' Sirius chuckled to himself. 'What about you, Harry? All right?'

Harry nodded his head, sending his helmet off kilter. He turned it right first, before realising that it was the wrong way round and then turning it left. Remus saw both his pupils move to the centre as if adjusting to a new line of sight.

 **Silly** [ **sil** -ee]:  **stupid or** **foolish**

'Mr. Lupin! I'm so glad you could make it!' A portly man came jogging towards them; Remus recognised him as the person on the other end of the phone this morning. He was called Samuel White; if Remus's memory served him correctly. 'You will not believe the number of people queuing on the other side; more than half of them spent the night outside!'

Sirius raised an eyebrow as White shook both their hands and then bent down to also shake Harry's. 'You have special entrance, do you? I didn't know you had such good connections or did Dumbledore pull some strings to get you in again?' He followed them inside through the back entrance, picking up Harry who had started to jiggle from excitement. 'Well, it beats having to stand in line, I suppose. What did you say the author's name was aga-'

Thankfully, Sirius stopped talking. He was confusing Remus. He was also confusing Mr. White who had stopped in front of a rather large poster to look at Sirius incredulously. The poster was rather nice; almost as tall as Remus and had one of his own paintings as the background. Remus recognised it as his very first one that had depicted a large stone castle and four boys flying around it in magical brooms. Remus was rather proud of it.

'Join us as History is made. Appearing in public for the very first time: John Moony, author of the famed series, THE MARAUDERS,' Sirius read slowly, leaning into the poster with every word until his nose was nearly touching it. 'John  _Moony_. That's what Harry calls you, isn't it:  _Moony._  And you've only got every bloody edition available of this series and Harry is bloody crazy about it too. And…and that painting at the back…the style is…' Sirius stared back at him with wide eyes. He did not seem to be able to say much more.

 **Mute** [myoot] **:** **incapable of** **speech**

'Daft,' Mr. White muttered. 'Why don't you and your friend just sit here, Mr. Lupin. The doors will be opening soon. There's a fair bit of press as well; I hope you don't mind. I know Mrs. Poppins requested there be none and we did try to keep it at minimum. We'll make sure to keep this as easy and smooth as possible, I promise you.' He looked back at Sirius in a manner Remus could only describe as condescending before scurrying off.

'So,' Sirius whispered, after a long time, looking just as flabbergasted as earlier. He did not even flinch when Harry tries to push his open mouth shut. 'So…you're famous?'

Remus frowned.

 **Famous** [ **fey** -m _uh_  s] **:** **renowned;** **celebrated**

Remus had only ever celebrated his birthday. 'No.'

Sirius ran a hand through his hair. He seemed a little exhausted. 'But you wrote those books,' he pointed at the large stack of books on either side of them; they were numbered from the very first series to the ninth. Remus was rather proud of his last one; the reviews had described it as "much more mature and emotionally gripping than the last. The change in style and prose is phenomenal!".

'Yes, I did,' Remus confirmed with a patient smile.

'I-I thought you were a painter!' Sirius cried out, flinging his hands in front of himself as if expecting the answers to fall to the palms of his hands.

'I am,' Remus replied again, getting slightly tired of Sirius's inane statements. He looked towards Harry for an explanation to Sirius's rather erratic and confusing behaviour, but Harry had already scampered off to the little play area they'd set up on the side. He was currently seated in a lime yellow chair and colouring into a book that Remus was afraid should not be coloured on. Remus hoped Mr. White did not notice this. 'I painted my own book covers.' He smiled with hope that Sirius would praise him for this.

He did not. Instead he looked angry, 'Of course, how else would you be able to own that ridiculous house.' He looked  _very_ angry. 'Why didn't you tell me?'

Remus did not understand. He did not understand why he had to tell. He did not understand why Sirius was angry all of a sudden when he had been so, so lovely these past two days. Had Remus done something wrong again?

'Remus, why didn't you tell me any of this?' Remus did not have an answer. He did not know what Sirius wanted to hear and he struggled, not wanting Sirius to be upset with him. 'You're always babbling about unnecessary things; yet you couldn't take the time to tell me about yourself? Even Harry knew what you did, but you never bothered to tell me?' He took a deep breath, not waiting for Remus to think of an appropriate answer before he started speaking again. 'Remus, you keep wanting me to fall in love with you, but how am I supposed to do that when I don't know the first thing about you? I don't know who you are or what you do or what you like!'

'I am Remus Lupin,' Remus answered, happy to finally understand what the dilemma was. 'I am twenty five years old and-'

'That's not what I meant!' Sirius cried, standing up. 'Damn it, Remus, that's your problem. You don't  _understand._ You don't understand what I'm trying to say or what an actual relationship entails. You don't understand  _anything!'_ He was breathing hard, hands clenched into fists and again, Remus found himself not knowing what he'd done wrong. He had given the right answer, hadn't he? 'Even now, I can clearly see that you have no clue what I'm so angry about. I don't even know why I'm wasting my time thinking that I should really give you a chance because God forbid, I was starting to actually have  _feelings_  for you. Damn it!' He ran a hand through his hair. 'Forget it, I need to get some air. Harry and I will be outside to take you home when you're done.'

 **Turmoil** [ **tur** -moil] **:** **a state of great commotion, confusion, or** **disturbance**

Remus did not understand.

He did not understand at all.

But accordingly to Sirius that was the problem.

Remus did not know how to solve it.

He wished Dumbledore or Mrs. Poppins was here, as they always seemed to know the right thing to say. But the only piece of advice that Mrs. Poppins had given him this morning, as she tucked a chocolate bar into his pocket, when they were preparing to leave was to always smile, thank them for coming and compliment them on something, even if he did not mean them.

Remus did not feel like smiling at the moment, but Mr. White had come back to announce happily that they were starting now. So Remus had no choice but to sit where he was and watch as the back door were locked close and the front doors opened. He felt none of the anticipated excitement as an entire row of people entered the shop, praising his books and his pictures. He had wanted Sirius and Harry to be here so that they could be impressed. He had wanted Sirius to think he was special.

 **Upset [** **uhp** -set] **:** **to disturb mentally or** **emotionally**

At a loss of what to do, Remus simply followed Mrs. Poppins advice as carefully put down his well-practiced signature, 'Thank you for coming. Your teeth are very white.'

* * *

'Padfoot, I need to pee!'

Sirius felt like such a twat. Sitting on the pavement with his head in his hand and Harry dancing around him from the urgency to pee, he felt like a complete and utter twat. He had lost his temper  _again;_ the legendary Black temper that Sirius couldn't seem to get rid of despite his constant battles with himself. He had gone off at poor, unsuspecting Remus Lupin over something as small as his profession. What did it matter if Remus was a famous writer whose books Sirius practically worshipped; and yes, he did notice the change in style and only now did he realise that the last book had to be written around the time Remus had met Sirius. Why did it matter that Sirius knew nothing about Remus except for the vague details of his past? Why did it matter so much to Sirius  _now_?

'Padfooot!'

It wasn't really just Remus's profession, was it? It was everything. It was the blasé way that Remus seemed to approach everything; as if the details didn't matter. It didn't matter; it  _shouldn't_ matter, but to Sirius who struggled to maintain control and to protect himself and Harry, it mattered greatly. It mattered because after nearly five years of living behind brick walls, Sirius was finally giving himself to somebody and it scared him witless. He felt vulnerable and weak, and he hated how easy it seemed for Remus to completely dismiss Sirius's insecurities.

It sounded sappy and ridiculous even to himself.

Sirius really was a twat.

'Let's go inside, love,' Sirius stood up, brushing the dust off his clothes and then taking Harry's hand. It was time for him to man up and apologise. 'There should be a toilet in that bookshop. We'll go see what Moony is up to afterward and then go for ice cream, what do you say?'

'Peeeeeeeeee,' Harry whined, jumping from foot to foot even as they walked. Clearly Sirius had been neglecting him for quite some time if Harry was willing to overlook Sirius's offers of ice cream. 'Now, now, now, now.'

'All right, all right,' Sirius hurried, fast walking towards the back entrance of the bookshop. 'What in-' He rattled the handles again, huffing in annoyance when he realised that they had locked it from inside, probably to avoid anyone coming through. 'Front door…front door,' he muttered to himself, lifting Harry up to his shoulder like a sack of potatoes when Harry had started jumping on the balls of his feet. 'The front door will be open,' he assured himself, 'Hold it a little longer, sweetheart.' He jogged around the building all the way to the front door and groaned in frustration. There was a long line of people, holding their books close to their chests; pressed so tightly that it was miracle if even air passed through. Some of them had even dressed like characters in the book, looking every bit the rabid fan that would have a fit if Sirius tried to pass through. Harry wiggled in his arms and Sirius decided to give it a shot any way. He pushed through the crowd roughly, letting a few excuse-me's slip through.

'Sorry sir, we're going to close the doors soon.'

Sirius heard many outraged complaints from behind him but no one seemed to move out of line in hopes that the guard would reconsider. Sirius also held such hopes. 'But my son, he needs to use the toilet,' he tried to explain, bringing forward Harry as proof in case the guard didn't notice a five year old on his shoulders.

The guard raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing Sirius. 'With due respect, Sir, if I let in every other person who told me that, this place would have a riot.'

Sirius rolled his eyes. 'Look, I don't care about this whole book signing thing,' he ignored the shocked gasps from the fans behind him, 'I came with the author in there. I gave him a ride on my bike.' Realising that his words somehow seemed a bit suggestive, he tried to make amends, 'What I mean to say is that he wants to marry me, so I'm perfectly sure he's not going to object even if I go in.'

The guard crossed his arms in front of his chest. 'Sir, this is getting ridiculous.'

'Padfooot, I need to goooo!'

"Argh,' Sirius cried in frustration. This was coming out all wrong. 'You don't get it. I  _live_ with him!'

'All right,' the guard replied in a harsh tone, grabbing Sirius by the upper arm. 'I am going to have to ask you to leave this premises right now, Sir, or I will have to call the police and charge you for stalking and irrational behaviour.' When Sirius spluttered incoherently, wondering how the hell the guard came to that conclusion, the hold on his arm only got tighter. 'You need to leave  _now,_ Sir.'

Sirius looked back at the crowd of people whispering behind him, some even pointing and laughing. Why, he wondered, did he always manage to find himself in trouble whenever Remus was around? 'Right,' he ground out, feeling his ego burning at the edges and fighting to keep intact. 'Right, I'll go then. Just have my son pee near that fire hydrant for everyone to see and if he lands up in juvenile for indecent exposure, I can always say that it was because the security guard at a  _bookshop_ wouldn't let me in because he couldn't bring his ears to believe that Remus Lupin might actually be in love with me.' Oh God, he sounded like a lunatic. What a laugh. 'He  _is_ in love with me, you know,' he tried again. When the guard glared at him, clearly not buying his argument, Sirius fled as quickly as he could without looking too obvious.

'Damn it,' he stomped his foot and put Harry down. Running a hand through his disheveled hair, he looked around for a coffee shop or restaurant nearby. 'There should be someplace,' he muttered to himself, not noticing Harry making a run for the window until he heard a loud clatter to his right. 'Harry! What are you doing!' Sirius made to grab the boy's foot but missed by inches as both Harry's tiny feet disappeared into the building past the smallest gap Sirius had ever seen. 'Damn it!' Sirius cursed, pressing his face to the window as his both his hands struggled to push the glass further upwards. He was clearly not feeding Harry enough if he could pass through a gap that even Sirius's arm was having trouble passing through. 'That naughty little bugger! I ought to grou-' Sirius found his words leaving him as his eyes landed on Remus.

There was something different about the man. Something inherently  _wrong._ Sirius could not place what, but his eyes immediately picked up the change in his form. Remus's shoulders were hunching slowly inwards, his fists closing and opening so tightly that Sirius could see small pools of blood forming in his palm. His eyes, those gently amber eyes that Sirius had so grown used to seeing, seemed to swirl and burn with a fire that was almost frightening. 'Remus?' His eyes scanned for the source of the other man's anger and then finally landed on the front door. Of course, the guard had mentioned they were closing and the back door was locked as well. 'Fuck, fuck, fuck,' Sirius cursed in panic, as he renewed his efforts to open the window. 'Oi, oi, oi, open the doors,' he screamed, feeling so, so afraid as he remembered what Remus had done to himself that time in the fair. 'Open the fucking doors!' he screamed, even though he knew perfectly well no one could hear him.

If Sirius could describe what happened next with a single word, it would have been,  _insanity._ He watched with wide eyes as Remus's fingers hooked under the table he'd been sitting at and then over turned it in one swift movement. He watched as Samuel White and a few other who had been there screamed and called his name, clearly wondering what was going on. Remus didn't hear anything; he wouldn't, Sirius knew, because he had _transformed_ to a state of panic. There would be no negotiating with Remus; no point in reaching out to him – Sirius had seen enough cases firsthand to know this. So Sirius could do nothing but watch in utter horror as Remus charged for the door, frightening everyone enough to move away as his shoulder met wood with a sickening crack. Something had definitely dislocated, yet Remus did not yield or even show signs of pain as his fingernails dug into the door and then scratched across the surface past the wall. Inhuman noises escaped his lips, akin to a snarl, and then he hit the door again; first with his other shoulder, and then with his head, his hip – again and again and again.

'Fuck,' Sirius's heart was threatening to explode as he struggled to open the window. His throat was dry, his hands shaking, and his mind gone blank as he racked his brains for a solution. It was only when Sirius saw Harry trotting tentatively close (too close, too close) to Remus that his adrenaline picked up. He gave up on being civilised and simply smashed the window with his elbow, ignoring the shot of pain that invaded his arm. 'Harry, no!' He climbed through, broken glass cutting into his palms and knees, and body protesting as he tried to fit his tall form through a small space. 'Harry, get away from him!' Sirius ran, stumbling over his feet towards Harry. He could not see anything past his Godson walking foolishly closer to Remus; could not hear anything except the sound of static echoing in his ears. His body worked on autopilot, good arm coming up and bending forward as he came closer.

Sirius only had time to register Remus's yellow eyes and the blood that had trickled down the bridge of his nose, before Sirius's fist flew hard against the side of Remus's head. It took only one blow; Sirius knew this from the many fights he'd had in his school days. One blow to knock Remus out completely and have him crumple to the floor, all wayward limbs. Lying there, bruised and bleeding, the Remus Sirius knew had transformed back to himself. Remus looked innocent; so, so innocent and naïve that Sirius wondered if he'd really imagined that flicker of recognition in Remus's eyes just before Sirius had decided to hit him.

Sirius panted, looking at everyone around him and their shocked faces. Some had taken to crouching behind the fallen desk and were looking at him with wide, scared eyes. His eyes moved to Harry this time, taking in his Godson's tear stained face and the wetness spreading in the front of his trousers steadily.

'Shit.'

* * *

'I've called them. They promised not to release anything to the press. Luckily, they were feeling more guilty than anything else.'

Sirius said nothing, simply rocking his feet back and forth to keep Harry asleep. The young boy had barely gotten a single wink of sleep since the incident happened and Sirius had asked for an emergency flight back. In fact, Harry had done nothing but shake and cry, unable to form words past him hiccupping whimpers to tell Sirius what he needed. He was afraid, Sirius understood that. Sirius himself was afraid.

'Do you still think I over protect him, Master Black?'

Sirius looked toward the bed, the figure under the sheets looking impossibly small in a sea of white. 'Yes,' he replied, but gave no justification for his answer. He did not look at her as she huffed in frustration and walked away, probably to have a word with Dumbledore outside. Perhaps she would advise Dumbledore against having Sirius in Remus's life anymore. She would probably ask for him to go back to whatever house he had; maybe move to another town – far, far away where Remus's obsessive infatuation with him would not reach and such accidents would not happen. This was the second time Remus had been hurt under Sirius's supervision. At least, he hadn't known last time, but today, he had no excuse. It was his own negligence that had brought Remus here. It was his negligence that had yet again made Harry cry.

'Sorry,' he apologised to a silent room because he no longer had the courage to do it face to face. He bent down to kiss Remus's forehead, one hand running gently across the stitch that now stretched across his right cheekbone. It was the first scar and only scar Remus had on his face; his silly, infuriatingly childish and honest face. Sirius had caused it. 'Sorry.'

'You have nothing to apologise for.'

Sirius's head whipped around in surprise to see Dumbledore standing in the doorway, arms laden three files and what looked like a black Walkman. 'I…' Sirius looked away, feeling suddenly more ashamed than ever. Not for the first time did Sirius think that he was somehow cursed – he had lost his parents, his brother, his best friends, and now, he was driving the only two people in the world who could stand to be with him anymore. 'Must be hard watching the person you love the most get destroyed by an imbecile of a doctor like me,' Sirius murmured self-deprecatingly.

'I never thought of you as an imbecile, if that helps, Sirius,' Dumbledore said kindly. 'It is true that I took you under my wing in order to protect Harry, but I offered you a scholarship and a position in my clinic because I found you capable. However,' he walked closer, his long purple coat curving across his legs. 'You have always had a lack of patience; something you need greatly when dealing with both children and men like Remus Lupin.' His blue eyes twinkled behind his glasses as he placed the files and tape player on the tiny coffee table. 'I'm leaving these with you but I expect you to return them to me once done.'

'Wait,' Sirius called out as Dumbledore began to walk away. 'What is this?'

Dumbledore smiled. 'Memories, I suppose, of something that was less than human. I haven't shared these with anyone, Sirius, not even the best of my staff. I trust you will not misuse them.'

Sirius waited till Dumbledore had completely left before turning to the files on top of the table. He would be lying if he said he wasn't at least the little bit curious. He knew who they belonged to of course: Remus Lupin. Even if Dumbledore hadn't been glaringly obvious, the bold, black letters on the side of each file were. Sirius also knew them because he had been banned access of them the one time he had let his curiosity get better of him and had gone looking in the library where old case files were stored. Irma Pince, the librarian, had not been happy. Swallowing nervously, he let adjusted Harry to one side before sitting down on the chair and picking up the Walkman first. His hands shook with nervousness and excitement as he pressed the play button.

**' _Remus, do you remember the day when you fell? When you walked out on your own?'_**

**_'I saw the sky. It was blue.'_ **

**_'Yes, you saw the sky, but you also saw your father. Do you remember? He was at your bedroom door.'_ **

**' _He would not get up.'_**

**' _Yes.'_**

**' _I called many times.'_**

**_A deep breath._ ** **' _Yes.'_**

**' _He always comes when I am hurt, but he would not get up.I tried many times. Then I went downstairs. I fell.' Silence. 'But I saw the sky.'_**

**' _Remus, do you understand why your father would not get up?' Again, silence. 'Son, your father was ill. Very, very ill…'_**

**' _Like me?'_**

**_'Much worse; his heart was not working very well for a long, long time. And then, that day, it stopped working at all. Do you understand what I'm trying to say, Remus? Your father is dead. Do you know what that means?'_ **

**' _No longer living; deprived of life.'_**

**' _Remus, your father is not coming back for you. He still loves you very much, but he is not coming back. He cannot.' An audible swallow. 'Your father is_** _dead **, Remus. He is gone forever.'**_

Sirius pulled the headphones out of his ears quickly. He looked around, almost expecting Remus to be standing in front of him, but the man was still fast asleep in the bed beside them. He stared at the tape, the wheels still rotating as the tape played on. Sirius could hear a child screaming even though he had pulled out the headphones. It sounded distinctly like Remus, yet nothing at all like him. Remus's voice was deeper now, much more confident when he spoke. Not able to bear the screams anymore, Sirius pushed the stop button and put the player away. He would listen to it another time, when today's incident would not be as freshly ingrained in his mind. Instead, he picked up the very first file, opening it to find a detailed police report.

* * *

_Patrick was not the most athletic of boys. At thirteen, his weight came far too close to that of a baby elephant and his cheeks had swollen so much that they pushed his eyes half closed. His mother, a rather fit woman according to his classmates, always worried. She controlled his diet at home but could do nothing about him nicking food off his classmates in school. She tried to convince him to exercise every day and usually, she always failed. Today, however, she had bribed him with a trip to the cinema to watch the PG-13 alien movie that had just released. Wanting to be the envy of all his friends, Patrick had agreed._

_He had cycled all the way to the Lupin house, where Mr. Lupin lived. Patrick reckoned his mum fancied Mr. Lupin quite a bit. She always went on about what a brave soul he was and how he was such a handsome man wasting his life away. None of the children in the neighbourhood liked Mr. Lupin very much because he seemed too stern, too quiet, and too edgy. The Lupin House, while beautiful, never seemed very welcoming. Patrick and his mother had once gone to deliver cookies and Mr. Lupin had not even let them get past his front step. He had thanked them and closed the door hastily. Patrick did not like how there were no windows in the house except for the two at the very bottom. Some of the older boys at school had also mentioned that they used to hear a child crying in there when they were much younger, but had dismissed it as a fallacy._

_On any other day, Patrick would not have stared at the house. He would have stayed away, just as he stayed away from Mr. Lupin. But today he noticed that Mr. Lupin had not taken out his mail, even though it was well into the afternoon. Today, he noticed that the front door handle was rattling – right, left, right, left – as if someone were struggling with getting out. And just as he'd thought it, he saw someone step outside. No, not someone – some_ thing.  _It looked like a corpse, pale as sheet and nothing but skin stretched over bones. It walked like a zombie too, unsteady, one bare foot wobbling as it came in contact with the ground and then another mimicking it shakily. Both its hands had risen up to its face to shield its eyes from the bright sun, yet its face was upturned to the sky. It was smiling._

_And just as Patrick thought it was coming towards him, it collapsed face first. The only thing Patrick registered was bright amber eyes before he ran, crying for his mum and trying to explain to her how he'd seen a zombie on the streets and it was going to eat him because he was so fat. Patrick lost all his weight in the very same year. He also remembered his mother's tears as she hovered over the body of the zombie boy, too afraid to touch him in case she hurt him. Her voice had shook as she dialed the police._

* * *

'Sirius?'

Sirius hadn't realised how long he'd been reading for until Remus called for him. He looked up, feeling inexplicably sad and unable to look at Remus without thinking about everything he'd read and hearing the screams of pure anguish that had played on the cassette tape for what seemed like hours and hours. He hadn't even realised that Harry had long since woken up and was now seated at the very corner of his chair, playing with the hem of his shirt.

'Hey,' Sirius smiled, his throat feeling scratchy for hours of disuse. 'Hey, you all right? Hold on, let me fetch you some water.' He got up quickly, pouring a glass of water with shaky hands and then handing it over to Remus. 'What is it?' Sirius asked when he found Remus looking at him strangely. It was that same look – the one that Sirius hated and kept telling Remus not to do. The look of utter dejection and sadness. 'What is it?' he asked again when the sadness in Remus's face seemed to deepen. 'Are you hurt somewhere?'

Remus looked down and shook his head. He had barely touched his water, clutching the glass tightly enough to break.

'Harry, lad, come here. Look, Moony's awake,' Sirius called, beckoning Harry towards him when he found conversation too awkward between the two of them. 'Come on, you want to see Moony, don't you?' Sirius frowned when Harry did not move from his position on the waiting chair. He walked closer, taking hold of Harry's hand and tugging gently. 'Come on, love. Moony's waiting.'

'No,' Harry whispered so softly that Sirius did not hear.

Sirius tried to coax him off the chair, pulling a little more on Harry's tiny hand. 'Don't be fussy, Harry. Come on.'

'I'm scared,' Harry whispered again. He looked towards Remus who was watching their exchange with large, apprehensive green eyes. 'I'm scared, Padfoot. I don't want to see Moony. I'm scared.'

Out of the corner of his eyes, Sirius saw Remus put the water glass aside and get off the bed, balancing himself on his unbroken arm. Remus had hardly taken two steps towards them when Harry screamed loudly, his piercing cries shocking both Remus and Sirius to a standstill.

'No! No, no no!' Harry cried, burying his face into Sirius's shoulder and clutching the front of his shirt so hard that it frightened Sirius to death. Tears soaked into his shirt and Sirius held Harry tightly as he sobbed. 'No! Don't make me go!' Helpless; Sirius felt the true meaning of helpless as he stared over Harry's head and met eyes with Remus. He could not blame Harry for being afraid, but neither could he blame Remus for who he was. He blamed only himself for quietly watching as Remus backed away without a word and only a single, longing glance towards Harry.

Pain. Sirius registered only pain in Remus's soft amber eyes.

Yet, Sirius did nothing about it.

Nothing but watch.


	12. [ek-stuh-see]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus has lived for twenty five years now. Due to his incapability to emote or feel many complicated things at the same time, he has always maintained a straight face, his facial features sitting at an angle of approximately a hundred and seventy four point two d though he has practiced it many times before in front of the mirror, Remus has truly never smiled.

' _Why don't you put that tape recorder away, Dumbledore. Let's keep this conversation off the record for all our sakes.'_

' _Will you be admitting to some heinous crime, Dr. Crouch?' Dumbledore's tone was far from joking. A grim silence followed after which Dumbledore was heard sighing followed by over exaggerated and rather noisy shuffling. 'It's off. Now why don't you explain to me, Crouch, why Mr. Lupin can no longer be treated at your_ _ **prestigious**_ _hospital?'_

' _Contrary to popular opinion, Dumbledore, we are not running a charity organisation here. It is bad enough that we are having to deal with the backlash of John Lupin's insanity – the media are eating us alive. Suddenly, it is the hospital's negligence and disregard that caused John Lupin to lock his own son into a room for over sixteen bloody years.' A deep breath._

' _And what will happen with the press when they find out that you are refusing to treat the victim of your negligence, may I ask?' Dumbledore's voice sounded cool, collected._

' _We have not refused him; we have simply asked to relocate him.'_

' _To an institution...in isolation…' There was accusation in Dumbledore's voice._

' _You have seen that boy, Dumbledore! He is not something rehabilitation can cure; he cannot even breathe fresh air without passing out! His eyes; his malnourished frame, his behavioral patterns - he is barely even_ _ **human.'**_ _A sharp breath, 'He should have never been saved, Dumbledore. As mercy to both him and this world, that boy should have died that day along with his father...'_

A finger pushed the stop button, forcing Sirius to look up from his notebook. He looked up to see Dumbledore staring back at him, a solemn look gracing his features. 'Perhaps that is enough for today,' he said, his tone allowing for no argument. 'There are some things that should never be said, nor heard, no matter how true, Dr. Black. Crouch had crossed that invisible line. Needless to say, society did not take to him kindly once this tape was been released.' He sat down in the visitor's chair, calmly pulling out the tape from the slot and pocketing it, assuring that Sirius never heard the rest of it. 'Crouch was stripped of his license shortly after and he is now in a position much worse that John Lupin as a father. His son was arrested not long ago for association with an underground drug conglomerate. But I'm sure you knew that already, didn't you?'

Sirius nodded, unable to speak due to the bile steadily rising up his throat. He shoved Remus's files away and even though he had turned his head the other way, he could still see the initial pictures they had taken when Remus had first been brought in –he looked small, like a child not more than twelve. His bones had been spindly and weak; skin so pale that he looked whitewashed and eyes so wide and innocent that he seemed unable to comprehend the sham that was the real world.

Dumbledore sighed. 'Sirius, I'm glad that you are suddenly taking an interest in Remus, but perhaps you have reached a point where knowing little is knowing more.' When Sirius only replied with a frown, Dumbledore leaned closer, fingers crossing together to rest under his chin. 'Sirius, the reason I gave you Remus's files was to understand him, not to pity him. The further you dig, the more dirt you will uncover; and much of it might stain not only your hands but your perception of Remus as well. Do you understand what I am trying to tell you?'

Pity? Did Sirius feel pity? Perhaps he did, but more than anything, he felt disgusted and angry and so very  _wronged_ on behalf of Remus. 'Do you really think he's not human?' Sirius asked instead, changing the topic because he was not yet ready to deal with the implications of what his feelings meant. 'You said, some things should never be said no matter how true – do you really think he's not human?' Unknowingly, his voice took on an almost threatening tone to it.

Dumbledore sighed again, leaning back into this chair. He seemed tired, like he'd dealt with this issue far too many times. 'No, but I cannot deny that he is not like you and me,' he replied kindly. 'It may sound harsh to you, Sirius, but as someone who has worked with Remus from the very beginning, I need to have you understand. Remus is a program. He is programmed to smile when he shakes your hand; he is programmed to frown when he is upset; he is programmed to laugh at your jokes and eat when his stomach growls. Every reaction, every expression on his face – he exhibits them because he has been taught by me how and when to.'

Sirius's hands clenched into tight fists.

'It is a cruel truth,' Dumbledore said softly when he noticed Sirius's hands. 'Something we all, as people who care for Remus, have trouble comprehending, I'm sure.' When he found that Sirius was unwilling to say much more, he took it as a cue to leave. He stood up from his chair, patting Sirius's still clenched fists. 'I came to take back the files I let you borrow, for the sole reason that it seems you've been neglecting your work. As your superior, I cannot have you turning away your patients and as your friend, I cannot have someone else's past consume you like this. I hope you understand.'

* * *

'They told me I would find you here,' Sirius called out, speeding up his jog to a run.

' _He's gone off to the Shrieking Shack, Dr. Black. I'm sorry, I mean, the little cottage off of 18_ _th_ _Street, past the dairy farm.'_

'Just because they've signed off your discharge paper doesn't mean you're well enough to go wandering off on your own,' Sirius panted, doubling to rest his hands on his knees. He looked through the curtain of his hair towards the slim figure lying on the grass, back faced towards him.

' _Why do you call it the Shrieking Shack?'_

' _Because in the first years of therapy with Dumbledore;that's all you could hear in that house.'_

'Oi, you're not asleep, are you?' Sirius asked, edging closer once he'd caught his breath. Remus was laid on his side, one arm folded beneath his head while the other, broken arm held across his chest. His face was turned away, partially hidden behind the overgrown grass. Vaguely, Sirius wondered who had helped Remus change back to his normal clothes. They hadn't done a very good job, Sirius noted, since one of Remus's socks was blue and the other a bright red.

'Remus,' Sirius called again, sitting down next to Remus with his legs crossed. His knee gently nudged Remus's shoulder. 'Remus, please look at me.'

'No,' Remus replied. They were the first words that Remus had uttered since Sirius's last visit to the hospital with Harry. That was three days ago, and Sirius had been lax as both a friend and a parent. He had yet to broach the subject of the incident with Harry and knowingly caused Remus a good amount of heartbreak in the process. Sirius took responsibility for his cowardice; because that is exactly what he'd been these past three days: a coward. Afraid of making the situation worse; of scaring Harry even further when he'd finally begun to calm down; of breaking Remus.

'Remus, please look at me,' Sirius pleaded, moving even closer so that the side of his thigh was pressed against Remus's back. 'Please.'

'No.'

Sirius did not think this was going to be easy, but damn it, he had come, hadn't he? However late, he had come for Remus. 'Why not? Am I not pretty enough for you anymore?' He joked, trying to make light of a situation which was clearly only going to spiral from here. He nudged Remus with his toes, trying his best to get Remus's attention without seeming too desperate. He  _wasn't_ desperate, because desperate would mean that he cared more for Remus than he was willing to acknowledge at this point. Not that Sirius did not care at all. There was  _affection_ , but affection could be felt for many things – pets, parents, children, friends, maybe lovers.

'You are the most beautiful person in the world,' Remus replied immediately and not for the first time, Sirius was taken aback at how easily such endearments spilled out of Remus's mouth. One thing Dumbledore had forgotten to teach Remus, it seemed, was  _tact._ Yet, Sirius admired how Remus had neither qualms nor any of the fears and restraints that held most people like Sirius back from approaching their feelings.. 'But I do not want to see you.'When Sirius questioned why, Remus's body tightened – a sign of discomfort. 'Your eyes have changed,' he replied vaguely. Sensing Sirius's continued confusion, he struggled to explain further. 'You look at me like the others…it's not the same anymore. I do not want to see it.'

Sirius did not understand.

It really was ironic how a man so good with words on paper found it so hard to express himself in real life. The turmoil of emotions Remus experienced was his alone to bear because he could not channel it well enough for anyone to comprehend. Sirius could only understand the crease on Remus's forehead, half hidden behind long grass; he felt the discomfort in Remus's body language; and saw the way Remus's fingers twirled in the ground as if itching to express themselves.

'Here,' Sirius pulled out a pen from his breast pocket, uncapping it before handing it over to Remus. He rolled up the shirt sleeve of his right hand and then presented it to him. 'Let's pretend we're part of a story. Let's pretend we're friends in that story; and that while devilishly handsome and perfect in every which way, one friend has done something wrong without meaning to.' Sirius knew he had caught Remus's attention, when the other man's face slowly started to peek out from between the fold of his arm. He pretended to be nonchalant when he felt the black pen being pulled from between his fingers. 'You can write that story down; all of Moony's feelings towards Padfoot. Things like Padfoot is such a prick, or Padfoot needs to be hit with a carrot for his stupidity.' He smiled gently and nudged his arm-canvas forward. 'Go on.'

The minute the nib of the pen touched his skin, Sirius knew he had made the right decision. Despite living with Remus for over a month now, he had yet to see Remus write; perhaps because he had never noticed or because he never knew until recently that Remus was a famous author. He had thought painting was Remus's element; had been entranced that day as he watched each brush stroke contribute to the clarity of a masterpiece. Sirius had been wrong, if the way Remus's pen slid across his skin was any indication. Sirius had clearly given Remus an outlet; and all of a sudden, words were filling his arms faster than he could read. The writing was smooth, a running calligraphy that seemed too sophisticated for the century they were living in now. Sirius recognised it from all the pictures he had seen in Remus's files – the drawings that had filled the walls of Remus's room during his entrapment.

_Love is a funny thing._

_Moony searched for it. He searched for it because many had told him that love would bring him happiness. Love would be an end to Moony's loneliness. It was a loneliness that persisted even though everyone in town knew him. It settled in the eyes of people in the form of fear, and grew and grew till Moony could not tell one from the other. And when it felt as though all hope was lost, Moony found Padfoot: a man with eyes so clear that Moony could see in them the reflection of his own smile._

Sirius swallowed, realising that Remus had reached the end of his arm but still had more left to write. He turned his arm as an offer but realised he had too much body hair to be able to write anything it without the pen getting stuck. He unbuttoned and folded his other sleeve, offering his left arm reluctantly. Suddenly, he did not want Remus to write anymore. It made him uncomfortable; more so than everything else that Remus did. It sounded ridiculous even in his head; it seemed Sirius had a fear of blatant honestly.

_For love, Moony tried hard to be human like everybody else._

Sirius frowned when he read the starting sentence but found himself paralysed in place.

_But the truth always comes out in the end. Padfoot had seen what everyone else saw: a monster._

'That's enough,' Sirius whispered harshly, snatching his arm back and wincing as the pen dragged across his arm in a crooked line. He rubbed his skin with the pad of his thumb, increasing pressure when he realised the ink would not smudge or go away. The word 'monster' stared back at him in mockery. 'Enough already…' He rubbed harder, his eyes fixed on the writing etched into his skin as he steadfastly ignored looking at Remus's face. He did not know what he expected to see, but he dreaded it. He dreaded it despite knowing that Remus probably did not have a "program" to react to situations like this. Sirius knew that the only expression Remus would have now was blank. 'Who told you these things?' he asked angrily, swiping the hair out of his face. 'Who called you a monster, tell me?' His head whipped furiously towards Remus, indignant eyes meeting what he had thought would be impassive. He was shocked, therefore, when he was met with tears instead.

And suddenly, Sirius understood what Dumbledore had meant about the perils of knowing too much. Remus had wanted to start afresh with Sirius – the only person in this little town who knew nothing of his past and did not judge him for it.

Big fat tears rolled down gaunt, pale cheeks and all Sirius could think was that it was impossible. It was impossible because Dumbledore had said that Remus was a program and if that were true, then he shouldn't be able to cry. You could not teach someone how to cry; not like this not where just looking at it made Sirius's teeth hurt. 'Stop that,' Sirius said shakily, his stomach filling up with acid that burned and ached, and made him feel so, so sick. 'Stop that,' A shaky hand rose to wipe Remus's face, again and again like a car wiper on a rainy day.

Sirius wondered if Remus knew what he looked like now, with his brown hair in disarray across his face and his cheeks stained with tears. He wondered if Remus knew he was crying. 'I told you to stop,' Sirius scolded harshly, before pulling Remus into a rough embrace. He felt Remus stiffen and struggle in his arms, but only tightened his hold knowing full well that he might be hurting Remus. 'You're  **not**  a monster,' Sirius argued vehemently, 'you're  **not**  a program. Just because people do not understand you, doesn't mean they are free to give you whatever labels they please. You don't have to always try so hard to be like everyone else just to be accepted. You need to try to find people who accept you as you are, even if who you are is an annoying, overtly persistent, daft man that eats too much chocolate to be considered healthy. It is your insanity that I'm in lov-' Sirius bit his tongue suddenly, wincing when it burned sharply. 'You are fine as you are,' he finished lamely, suddenly feeling rather silly for his outburst.

He tried to pull away from Remus but found himself unable to. Somewhere during his overtly dramatic and passionate speech (where he had clearly gotten carried away and gone through a period of verbal vomit), Remus had reciprocated his embrace and wrapped himself so tightly around Sirius that it was border lining a choke hold. 'Er,' Sirius awkwardly shifted around, trying to move his legs – something Remus seemed to have mistaken for a chair. 'You aren't still crying, are you?' He asked, feeling extremely uncomfortable when he felt Remus's shaky breath against his neck. He pressed a hand to the back of Remus's head, his fingers slipping in between strands of light brown. 'Oi, come on. Let go already.' Sirius ignored the contradiction his own body seemed to be displaying as one hand continued to caress Remus's hair while the other rubbed his back soothingly (in case he really  _was_ still crying). 'Come on, you're a grown man,' Sirius tried, fidgeting to keep his legs from falling asleep. 'What are you doing?'

'Stopping you from leaving,' Remus replied, his voice muffled in Sirius's shirt.

Suddenly, Sirius realised he knew one other person in the entire world who wrapped himself around Sirius like a monkey, exactly as Remus was doing right now, every Monday before going to school. 'Did Harry teach you this tactic?'

Sirius felt Remus nod against his collarbone. 'Is it working?' he asked, moving closer on Sirius's lap and pushing all the wrong (right) bits together. Sirius was quickly losing connection between his brain and the southern regions of his body. He was trying to be sensitive, he really was, because he could still hear the hint of tears in Remus's voice and he was still trying to make amends; but did Remus have to make this so difficult?

'It never works with Harry,' Sirius replied dryly.

Remus looked up, his eyes rimmed red. 'You won't leave, will you?'

To a face like a kicked puppy, Sirius would be inhuman to say no. 'I won't leave.'

'Even Harry?' Remus asked and Sirius noticed the hope in his voice rise. 'You won't take him away, will you? He's my best friend.'

'No,' Sirius replied, 'No, I'll talk to him.' He patted Remus on the back as an urge to get up. 'We'll take you home first and then we can talk to Harry together, okay?' When Remus nodded hesitantly, Sirius smiled in the most reassuring way he knew. 'Harry hasn't taught you how I carry him all the way to school afterwards, has he?'

Remus shook his head.

Sirius sighed in relief.

* * *

'How was school today?'

Harry seemed to have not heard, his eyes fixed on Remus who was standing in the far corner of the room apprehensively. It was a positive sign, Sirius thought, that Harry was not crying, screaming, or kicking to get out like the other day. Sirius had hardly said anything and had managed to make progress; this was his optimistic thought for the day. Remus, on the other hand, was afraid. Sirius wasn't sure how he knew Remus was afraid because nothing about the other man's face indicated his inner turmoil. The momentary slip of face back in the shack had dissolved and Remus's stoic expression was back again as if nothing had ever happened. The only sign of what had transpired was the residual redness in the whites of Remus's eyes.

'Did you have fun? You said they were going to do finger painting in class, didn't you?' Sirius urged on, bouncing Harry on his knee to get his attention. 'Was it fun?'

Harry shook his head. 'No.'

'Why not?'

Harry looked up at Sirius. 'It's funner with Moony.'

Funner is not a word, Sirius should have said, but he was too busy feeling relieved over the fact that Harry seemed to acknowledge that "Moony" was fun and not "scary". 'I'm sure Moony would be happy to finger paint with you today, won't you, Moony?' Sirius asked, turning to Remus with a reassuring smile. When Remus did nothing but nod, Sirius carried on the awkward conversation to his best possible effort. 'But Moony broke his arm, so we have to be careful. He won't be able to pick you up to reach all the high places.'

Harry looked contemplative, as if weighing his options. Would the joys of finger painting all across the Lupin house walls win over his fears?

Sirius sighed. Honestly, he had thought that he would not be having any difficult conversations with Harry for at least another seven years. Somehow, it felt as if at this point, talking about the birds and the bees would be a lot easier than this. 'Harry, love,' he started, knowing he could not beat around the bush any longer. 'do you remember that day when I didn't take you to the park even though you really, really wanted to; and then you got so, so upset that you kicked me in the shins.?'

'I said I was sorry!' Harry wailed, covering his eyes with his hands and scrunching up his face in a severe pout. It was a sign that Harry was readying himself up for a good, fake cry should he find that Sirius still held that grudge and might punish Harry again.  _Brat_ , he thought affectionately, as Sirius remembered that he would do the very same thing back in his school days.

'I know, sweetheart,' Sirius assured, patting Harry on the head. 'But do you remember how upset you were that time?'

Harry nodded, eyes wide.

'And do you remember how awful it felt when no one was listening to you, even though you wanted to go to the park a lot?'

Again, a nod in affirmation.

'Well, that's how Moony was also feeling that day in the bookshop when he got mad,' Sirius explained in a low, gentle voice. He hoped he sounded like an understanding parent and not his usual gruff and crude self.

'Moony also wanted to go the park?' Harry asked, curiously looking towards Remus.

Sirius pinched the bridge of his nose – so much for understanding parent. 'No, Harry, Moony was upset.'

Harry blinked. 'Why?'

'Because he was scared.'

'Why?'

'I thought we were done with your "why" phase!' Sirius growled, losing patience.

'I was scared because I thought no one would ever come,' Remus spoke up, taking Sirius by surprise. 'The sky was beautiful that day – I wanted to see it.'

And somehow, that utterly simplistic and vague explanation seemed to clarify all of Harry's doubts better than Sirius's ramblings.

'I'm not bad,' Remus continued, his feet shuffling as if wanting to come closer to them but hesitant to. Even when Sirius beckoned him with one hand, he stayed put in his place, fidgeting uncomfortably. 'I'm not scary…I try not to be.' His amber eyes wandered across both Sirius and Harry's faces, as if searching for a sign of acceptance. 'I will never hurt you.'

Harry looked hesitant, his body rocking back and forth as if unsure whether to go to Remus or stay with Sirius. There was residual fear holding him back. 'Harry, Remus is your best friend, isn't he?'

Harry shook his head. 'Ron is my best friend,' he corrected. 'Moony is my bestest friend.'

Where, Sirius wondered with an exasperated hand across his eyes, did Harry pick up such horrendous vocabulary? 'Well, Remus is still Remus; and sometimes he does things when he's upset just like you or me but we should forgive him if he's sorry, shouldn't we? Just like I forgave you when you kicked me in the shins,' the mark of true parenting, Sirius thought, was bringing up the same mistake of your child's past at opportune times for the rest of his little life. Harry pouted furiously again, clearly displeased that Sirius would yet again mention his misbehaviour. 'Remus bought sorry chocolates, didn't you, Remus?'

Remus nodded feverishly, his hands moving inside his pockets and fishing out the chocolates Sirius had advised him to keep as ammo. It was a lucky thing that little children were so easily bribed. It was also lucky that little children very rarely kept grudges and were a lot more accepting of people than adults were. As predicted, Harry jumped off Sirius's lap and raced up to Remus, hands greedily reaching for the sweets in Remus's outstretched hands. It seems Harry's fears had been abated now and Sirius could see Remus's thin lips stretching into a slow smile. He looked at Sirius almost disbelievingly; perhaps Remus hadn't expected it to be this easy with Harry. Truthfully, neither did Sirius.

'Guess he really loves you, eh?' Sirius murmured more to himself than Remus, as he watched Harry smear chocolate all over Remus's cheek and then trace a little heart onto it with his index. 'Guess I do, too.'

* * *

 **School [** skool **]:**   **an institution where instruction is given, especially to persons under college age.**

Remus had never really been to school before. This might be a consequence of the fact that he was no longer an age considered applicable for school. Also, Remus found, upon research for his books and his curiosity, that school curriculums often lacked critical information that needed to be learned in order to understand this world and the ways of life. Remus's finding were confirmed when he had once asked Harry whether he knew about Schrödinger's Cat and Harry had replied by saying he knew much more about his friend, Hermione Granger's cat, Crookshanks, and if Remus would like to meet it.

Remus fidgeted in his seat. It was hard and wooden, and extremely uncomfortable. It was also rather small, though not as small as the furniture Remus had seen while passing by Classroom Number KG-2. The furniture had all been green and yellow, and arranged in straight lines. They had been so small that even a man of average height like Remus would only be able to fit a quarter of his buttocks on it. The entire school was painted in various shades, like pink, yellow, green, and blue; and while Remus was extremely fond of colours, he was not at all fond of the paint work that had been cruelly done upon such lovely walls. Especially not of the lopsided cartoon characters that appeared at almost every step of the way.

Currently, as Remus sat on his highly uncomfortable chair, triangle eared Mickey Mouse was looking at him with an unnecessary amount of glee.

 **Distasteful [** dis- **teyst** -fuhl **]:**   **unpleasant, offensive, or causing dislike.**

Remus was still not sure how he had ended up in St. George's Primary School. He only remembered receiving a phone call from Ms. Periwinkle this morning. While Remus was not the best judge of character or emotions, he could tell quite clearly that Ms. Periwinkle was in a state of extreme unhappiness.

_'Hello, this is Ms. Periwinkle, Harry's teacher. Am I speaking to Harry Potter's guardian?'_

**_Guardian [gahr_ ** _-dee-uhn **]:**   **a person who is entrusted by law with the care of the person or property, or both, of another, as a minor or someone legally incapable of managing his or her own affairs.**_

_Remus frowned; would it be rude to agree that Harry was incapable of managing his own affairs? Harry had managed to put on his school uniform with all his buttons in the right holes today and had also eaten breakfast without a fuss. If anything, Remus thought Harry had shown remarkable improvement. 'No,' he replied instead, 'I am Remus Lupin.'_

_There was a pause on the other end of the line and Remus was left to wonder is Ms. Periwinkle had left the phone hanging. It seemed like quite a rude thing to do. Finally, she spoke. 'Mr. Lupin, Harry gave me your number when we could not reach his father, Sirius Black. I assume you're his secondary caretaker?'_

_Remus was extremely confused. Was he Harry's secondary caretaker? Not knowing how to answer such a complicated question, he answered with the best possible alternative: 'Yes.'_

_'Oh good,' Ms. Periwinkle sounded relieved and Remus was glad that he had chosen the right answer. 'Mr. Lupin, I need you to come to the school to discuss Harry's behaviour. I don't want you to worry too much...'_

_Remus was not worried at all._

_'But his behaviour today really has been inexcusable and his penchant for trouble only seems to be growing.' Her tone rose as she spoke and Remus realised that this was quite serious. 'I've discussed this with Harry's father before, but if this carries on, we really might have to take disciplinary action. Harry might have to be suspended.'_

**_Suspend [_ ** _suh- **spend]** :  **to hang by attachment to something above.**_

_'Oh dear,' Remus worried. The disciplinary action seemed a little harsh. Remus had thought such punishment had long been outlawed and was only something he read in history books. This was quite the predicament; he certainly did not want Harry to be hurt in the process of suspension. 'Please tell me when I should come.'_

'Mr. Lupin, you may come in now.'

Remus nodded, glad to be out of the chair, as he followed the secretary into the principal's office. Harry was already sitting there, his arms crossed over his chest and his cheeks puffed in a rather unfitting pout. Another woman sat by his side, looking just as angry and glaring quite horridly at Remus as he entered and took a seat beside her. Remus wondered if she was Ms. Periwinkle. A small glance towards her name badge confirmed that yes, she was. She looked much nicer than she sounded over the phone; Remus would have never pinned her as a woman capable of such cruel acts such as child torture.

Remus turned towards the principle, an old woman that had a rather stern look on her face. Her name plate read, Minerva McGonagall. He had never met anyone with no lips, but as she surveyed Remus's movements, her mouth only seemed to get thinner and tighter. She was gaunt, her cheekbones more pronounced by how tightly she had pulled her greying hair back in a bun. She greeted him with a very strong Scottish Accent. Not one for idle talk, Remus got straight to the point, 'Are you going to suspend Harry?'

'Not this time, Mr. Lupin,' She replied harshly.

Remus sighed in relief.

'But I do need to speak about Harry's behaviour the past few days. Now, don't get me wrong, Mr. Lupin, Harry is a good child. He does well in class, gets along with all his classmates, and always submits his work on time; but…' She sighed heavily. 'He seems to have trouble following him wherever he goes. As guardians, I know you and Mr. Black try your best, but someone needs to tell Harry that it is not all right to dye your teacher's hair blue!'

Remus turned towards Ms. Periwinkle, only just noticing that the tips of her otherwise blond hair were indeed, blue. He had initially thought they were a part of her dress shirt. He thought they looked rather fetching on her and he told her so. 'They look like they've been dipped in the ocean,' he described, admiring the gradation of colour in a strand between his fingers. Already, his mind was filling up with ideas for his next artwork.

'T-Thank you,' Ms. Periwinkle stuttered, her face changing to an unattractive shade of red. It made her freckles stand out and unlike with Sirius, Remus did not feel the urge to trace them with his fingers.

'Mr. Lupin, I will ask you to refrain from flirting with my staff!' McGonagall scolded, startling Remus out of his muse.

 **Flirt [** flurt **]:to court triflingly**

Remus blinked. He did not know admiring the colour of another's hair could be considered flirting. Remus carefully filed that away in the back of his mind for future use. Remus thought Sirius looked quite lovely when he blushed. 'I apologise,' Remus said, moving away. 'Is that all Harry did? It seems rather silly to suspend Harry for such admirable artwork. He is usually not very good with paints at home.'

Harry giggled as McGonagall's jaw dropped open. 'Mr. Lupin, I would have been absolutely appalled at your lack of concern if I did not actually have more complaints against Harry. Honestly, when I met Sirius Black, I was astonished at how Harry could be so much of a troublemaker with such a kind and responsible parent. I can see now that it is all your influence,' she scolded, making Remus feel rather horrible. He had never been scolded before and he found himself looking at his shoes, a feeling of extreme upset settling in his stomach. 'Do you know, Mr. Lupin, that Harry hit one of his classmates today?'

'Only because he was pushing me!' Harry spoke up angrily. 'Moony, I only hit him because he was being mean and he said really horrible things in class!' He climbed out of his chair and stood in front of Remus, his bright green eyes flashing with indignation. 'The teacher told us to write about our mummies and when I wrote about you, Malfoy said that I was stupid because I didn't even know what a mummy was! He said I was an  _orp-orph-orphan!'_ He held Remus's good hand tightly with both of his. 'That's not true, is it, Moony?'

 **Orphan [** awr- **fuh**  n **]: a child who has lost both parents through death**.

Remus shook his head. 'You have Sirius,' he gave as explanation to his answer. Dimly, Remus realised he was an orphan; the thought settled like lead in his stomach and made him suddenly feel very, very sad. Remus had never thought of himself as an orphan before this and while he was under no delusions of his father being alive, suddenly he missed John Lupin terribly.

Harry nodded enthusiastically, his hold on Remus getting tighter. 'Padfoot is my daddy and mummies are people who love daddies, and live with them, and feed the children, and clean the house, and give hugs when we come back home. So that makes you my mummy, doesn't it, Moony?'

Remus  _did_  love Sirius. They were also currently sharing a residence. Remus did not clean the house very much as Mrs. Poppins usually took care of such household chores. He did, however, give Harry frequent hugs and offer to feed him when Sirius felt too tired from work to chase after Harry in the evenings. While this did not compute in his internal dictionary, Remus supposed that following Harry logical train of thought, he was Harry's mummy. And if the question was being asked by Harry then it was only logical to follow Harry's theory of motherhood rather than that of a book (no matter how prestigious the Oxford Dictionary was). So Remus answered quite simply, 'Yes.'

'Mr. Lupin!' McGonagall, who had been surprisingly quiet through Harry's impassioned speech, suddenly banged her desk as she spoke up. 'While I understand that Harry was treated unfairly by his classmate and that this is a sensitive topic, this is not how I would expect you to handle the situation! Do not get me wrong, I am not being prejudiced, but I simply cannot allow pushing such ridiculous ideas into a child's mind!'

'Ridiculous ideas are what make beautiful stories,' Remus replied calmly, as he allowed Harry to climb into his lap. 'You should not disregard it.' He frowned as Harry popped a thumb into his mouth and looked upon McGonagall smugly. 'It is why the paintings in your school are ugly.'

McGonagall's mouth did a rather shining impression of a fish as she turned steadily red. Remus was starting to dislike her quite a bit and was getting a little bit bored by this meeting. He had only come to rescue Harry from being suspended but now that he looked closely, there was very little in this building that could be used to suspend a child. There was a coat hanger in the corner of the office, but Remus could tell from past experiences that Harry found being strung from coat hangers rather enjoyable. The phone call had clearly been an empty threat.

'May I interrupt, Headmistress,' Ms. Periwinkle said, looking at them with kind eyes. Her eyelashes fluttered a little when turned towards Remus; perhaps she had gotten dust in her eyes? 'Perhaps Mr. Lupin and Harry do not have the wrong idea.' She wet her lips nervously and pressed on, 'Families are dynamic and flexible; and what better way to teach tolerance to the children than to introduce them to Harry's…er…mummy?' She blushed brightly as Remus sent her a beaming smile. 'I understand that Harry's actions are inexcusable but I think if we don't address the issue today, it's only likely to escalate, don't you think?'

Ms. Periwinkle, Remus thought, was as lovely as her hair.

And it was because of her that Remus found himself, for the first time, in a classroom, balancing a quarter of his buttocks on a rather small chair. He had children, all as small as Harry, surrounding him and watching him with curious eyes as Ms. Periwinkle introduced him as Mr. Lupin, Harry's parent. She asked everyone to treat him nicely and to ask questions if they had any. Harry seemed much happier now and was no longer sucking his thumb in distress, as he perched on Remus's shoulders and rested his head on the crown of Remus's own. Normally, Harry liked being carried like how Remus often carried his paint supplies in his arms; but this was impossible with a broken arm.

Harry had also pointed out Malfoy, a child with platinum blond hair and a very sour look on his face. Unlike the other children, Malfoy did not show much interest in Remus or Harry and chose to sit at the far end of the classroom. Remus thought of the best glaring face he had learned and then shot it towards the other child, who, in fright, looked down quickly. It made Harry laugh so Remus did it two more times, deciding that it was rather fun.

 **Funny [fuhn** -ee **]: causing amusement or laughter.**

'What happened to your arm?'

'I broke it,' Remus replied to the girl with bushy hair and rather large front teeth.

'She's Hermione,' Harry whispered. 'She has a cat.'

'Ah,' Remus remembered Crookshanks. He also remembered Harry telling him that Ron thought Hermione was a bossy, know-it-all; and that girls were yucky anyway.

'Did you break it while fighting ninjas like Harry said?' another child asked. He was very ginger. He was wearing an orange jumper that clashed horribly with his hair. His description sounded very much like Ronald Weasley, Harry's best friend. Sirius often complained about Ronald's mother and called her 'an insufferable baby making machine who could stuff her opinions up the fat arse of whatever ginger God she worshipped because he was going to raise his Godson the way he fucking wanted, damn it!'. Remus thought it was prudent not to mention this to Ronald. The word "fucking", Mrs. Poppins taught him, was not something that you said in front of children.

 **Rude [** rood **]: discourteous or impolite.**

'Moony can not only fight ninjas, he can also fight fire with his bare hands!' Harry boasted, articulating this by waving his pudgy hands around. 'He has an ocean in his backyard and he lets me paint on the walls!'

 **Codswallop [kodz** -wol- **uhp]: nonsense; rubbish.**

All the children simultaneously went 'ooooooohhh', except for Hermione who looked rather disbelieving. 'So are you really Harry's mother?' she asked, pushing her hair haughtily off her shoulders. 'Because you can only be Harry's mother if you're married to Harry's father; and I don't see a ring on your hand.' She said this with a very knowledgeable nod; an action that made Ronald Weasley huff and say something quite unflattering under his breath.

'Moony is marrying Padfoot,' Harry replied, puffing up his chest proudly. Ms. Periwinkle giggled on the side but did not say anything as the rest of the children nodded understandingly. 'Aren't you, Moony?'

'Yes,' Remus confirmed. 'I will marry Padfoot.'

* * *

'Don't sleep on that side; you'll damage your arm further,' Sirius chided gently, turning Remus by the shoulder onto his back. 'Keep it still, that's good,' Sirius guided both of Remus's arms to his sides, snuggly fitting into the straight planes of his body. Remus was not complaining. He found he did not have the sufficient concentration to complain as he was largely busy rejoicing the fact that Sirius was sitting on his bed. Sirius had not visited Remus's bed since that night when they had had sex together. Even considering the fact that Remus had been in the hospital for a while, Sirius had not come to Remus's bed for eight days, four hours, twenty two minutes, and seventy nine point o eight seconds.

 **Distressed [dih** -strest **]: great pain, anxiety, or sorrow.**

Remus had been worried that he had warded Sirius off his vicinity with his bad sex. It had not quite been his fault; Remus had not been entirely educated in the mechanics of sex with other men. Remus's only experience had been with women (woman) and that had not been very enjoyable. When Remus had been writing his third installment in his book series, he had written the character of Dorothy, the dragon who had escaped its asylum and was now terrorising the peaceful village or Hogsmeade, based on his former wife. He did not think it had been obvious, but he had received a call from her shortly after the book had been published, thanking him profusely for the mention.

'Harry told me about what you did today,' Sirius said softly as he lay beside Remus, his legs folding and then unfolding to tuck themselves inside the covers. 'Thank you.' One of his hands rose to Remus's cheek, his thumb sweeping back and forth against a scar Remus had garnered himself in the recent course of events. It felt lovely; ticklish and a little bit tingly.

'They were going to suspend Harry, so I saved him,' Remus explained, hoping that Sirius would consider Remus rather heroic for doing something so selfless. He purposely did not mention that the threats of suspension had been rather empty.

Sirius laughed. 'Harry had been in a fair bit of trouble since he joined school. I wish I could say that I don't know where he gets it from, but that would be like the pot calling the kettle black, wouldn't it.' Remus nodded, though he never quite understood such a term; the pots in his house were silver. 'But he's not a bad chap, you know; and this really isn't the first time he's gotten bullied for not having a mum or a real dad. It's gotten more and more difficult to deal with these situations as he's gotten older, so…' Sirius moved forward to press a soft kiss against Remus's forehead. 'So thank you for standing up for him. Thank you for agreeing to go into his class today. Harry wouldn't stop talking about it all through bed time; he was really excited and happy that you came today.'

Remus blinked, unsure of what to say. He did not think what he did warranted a thank you, but did not want to dismiss Sirius's affection after having waited for eight days, four hours, thirty minutes, and fifty one point sixty six seconds. Instead he scooted closer so that he and Sirius were nose to nose and their toes brushed underneath the sheets. 'You have nice hair,' he tried to flirt, remembering McGonagall's words today and hoping it would work as well on Sirius as it did on Ms. Periwinkle. It did not. Sirius did not blush at all. So Remus disregarded the flirting and simply asked for what he wanted, 'Will you kiss me?' He hoped that Sirius would not say no.

Sirius laughed; the arm on his cheek moving to the nape of Remus's neck as he leaned in and pressed his lips to Remus's. Remus was not a man to quantify moments since they were not the most tangible sources of information; however, if he were to choose, he would definitely choose this very moment as the best moment of his life. He paid attention to every detail; the warmth of Sirius's lips and the rough texture against his own as it sucked Remus's bottom lip in slow strokes. Remus mapped the path of Sirius's hands as the right tangled into Remus's hair and insistently pulled him closer. Sirius left hand stroked the cast of Remus's broken arm first, before coiling around Remus's waist and pressing the flat of his palm against the small of Remus's back.

 **Kiss [** kis **]: to express a thought, feeling, etc., by a contact of the lips.**

'It's weird,' Sirius whispered as he parted and rested his forehead against Remus's. 'It's weird how I'm not scared of this anymore…' Remus felt his heart sink.

'Am I scary?' Sirius shook his head. 'No. It was me who was scared, of everything really. I've just been trying so hard to protect myself and Harry that I forgot what it was like to rely on and trust somebody.' He kissed Remus chastely on the mouth again. 'Thank you again; I feel like I'm going to be saying this a lot tonight. But I really am very happy today; I really, really am.' He kissed Remus for a little longer, his tongue peeking through to caress Remus's lips.

'Will we,' Remus started, swallowing slightly as he stared into Sirius's darkening grey eyes, 'Will we have sex tonight?' he asked nervously, hoping very much that Sirius would not say no. 'I won't be as bad as last time; I've read through several books and I have the last experience to learn from, but please do not be repulsed by me. I'm certainly better than Dorothy, the dragon, and-mph!' Remus was cut from his horribly punctuated run on sentence by Sirius's hand clamping over his mouth.

'You know, I don't think I've ever heard you speak this fast,' Sirius chuckled, still not unleashing his hold on Remus's poor mouth. 'Am I making you nervous, Remus Lupin?'

Remus shook his head and tried to say, 'No, you are making me horny.'

But the message never passed on to Sirius even as his hand moved away from Remus's mouth and occupied itself with the drawstrings of Remus's pyjama bottoms. Sirius shot one look outside into the hall before pulling the bed curtains closed and giving Remus a wicked grin. The last thing Remus saw was Sirius's head disappearing underneath the sheets before intense pleasure engulfed him and forced his eyes shut.

 **Ecstasy [** ek- **stuh** -see **]: a state of altered consciousness in which a person is unaware of his surrounding but focuses on a well-defined object or emotion that makes him unable to perceive other objects.**


	13. [truhst]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus has lived for twenty five years now. Due to his incapability to emote or feel many complicated things at the same time, he has always maintained a straight face, his facial features sitting at an angle of approximately a hundred and seventy four point two d though he has practiced it many times before in front of the mirror, Remus has truly never smiled.

There was something very innocent about the way Remus Lupin slept. It probably had a lot to do with the fact that it was the only time Remus was quiet. It might have only a little to do with the way Remus's light brown hair fell haphazardly across the pillow and the way his lithe limbs curved and tucked elegantly around Sirius's body. Not that Sirius was watching; because watching the rhythmic rise and fall of Remus's chest would just be silly. That would make Sirius emotional in ways that were not classically Black; Blacks delved into whirlwinds of anger, not breezes of poetry. And while his mind adamantly insisted on romanticism, Sirius refused to believe that the fingers he was now running down the smooth expanse of Remus's bare back composed any kind of sonnets in their wake.

Because they didn't.

Sirius's fingers were just exploring,  _admiring_ the spaces between each of Remus's ribs and the gentle dip of his back just before the swell of his arse. He was admiring Remus's bone structure, from a completely medical point of view, of course.

'Good morning,' Sirius smiled as Remus's eyes fluttered open. 'Sleep all right?'

Remus blinked and from the blurriness of his pupils, Sirius could tell that his mind hadn't cleared to its usual sharp self yet. Soft amber eyes stared upwards; a glance towards the open sky, Sirius realised, for Remus to be assured that he was still free. A soft curve of full pink lips as sunlight bathed his face and Sirius knew it was his mind playing tricks, but he could not help but feel as if the heavens had decided to shine brighter just for Remus. The other man's pale skin seemed to glow. Sirius wondered if such thoughts were a byproduct of falling in love.

It was nauseating.

And then Remus rubbed his eyes with his fists and fluttered his eyelashes; and Sirius had a hard time keeping his heart from exploding out of his chest. He honestly could not fathom when he had started finding Remus endearingly attractive rather than an annoying git. Sirius continued to stare even as Remus turned towards him; Sirius's hand that had been admiring the Remus's body slid to wrap around the man's waist tenderly.

'The amount of space you occupy is disproportional to your body size.'

Remus was  _still_ an annoying git.

'I am also unable to move.'

Sirius huffed, his irritation only making him hold Remus tighter. 'You will be able to move when I allow you to move.'

Remus tilted his head. 'You are oppressing me.'

'I am,' Sirius confirmed haughtily, still wondering why he had thought Remus was adorable only moments ago. The man was utterly infuriating and an absolute mood kill. 'I am oppressing you and forcing you to stay in bed with me for a little longer so that I can bloody cuddle with you as I please!'

'But this is abuse,' Remus pointed out, unhelpfully.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. 'Cuddling is abuse?' It  _was_  abuse. It was abuse to his male ego to even say the word 'cuddling' twice; forget actually admitting to doing it.

Remus shook his head, fringe falling into his eyes. 'Oppression is abuse. The women's guide Mrs. Poppins subscribes to advises strongly against it. It also advises to exfoliate twice a week for smooth and healthy skin. It is very reliable.' He smiled brightly at Sirius, completely oblivious to Sirius's growing exasperation. 'Mrs. Poppins likes the beauty column best and always tries them out. Last month, she covered my face in banana and yoghurt – it was very sticky.'

It turned out, Remus's glowing skin was not at all a byproduct of Sirius's love for him. 'Moony…Remus, for how long has Mrs. Poppins taken care of you – eight years, maybe?' When Remus nodded, Sirius swore under his breath. 'In eight years, she has managed to strip you of every last drop of testosterone in your body and your dignity along with it.' He pushed Remus's hair out of his curious amber eyes. 'Don't you want to do man-things once in a while?'

'I like to open doors,' Remus replied. 'Mrs. Poppins said a true man opens doors for women.'

That familiar urge to hit his head against something solid surged through Sirius once again. 'Well, yes, but, what I meant was things like opening jars, walking around your house in your underpants, taking a leak in the sink, fixing broken bulbs or bookshelves, maybe growing some stubble on that baby smooth, face-masked skin of yours.' He nudged Remus's chin with his fist lightly. 'I've said this before, Remus: I understand that Mrs. Poppins takes care of you and has done so for many years. I also understand that she does the things she does because she loves you and wants the best for you; but she is  _smothering_  you. If there is something you want to do, then do it. If your heart want something badly, even if at times it seems illogical, go for it. If you want freedom, start with the small things.' Sirius breathed about to rant a little more when the bedside clock caught his eye.

6.54 AM.

He needed to get ready for work.

Sighing, Sirius sat up and pressed a light kiss to the tip of Remus's nose. He used his toe to hoist up his trousers from the floor before pulling them on. There was a suspicious white stain on the knee that Sirius tried to avoid looking at as he got off the bed with one last look at Remus. 'Look, I'll leave you to think about it while I shower, all right? Knowing you, it will probably take some time to sink in, so if you could help Harry get ready for school, that would be great.' He smiled and slipped his discarded shirt over his head. It was the first time Sirius felt like staying in bed instead of going to work, but he did not voice such desires. There was no need for Remus to get ahead of himself and certainly no need to inform him of things that made Sirius's cheeks turn bright red. So he fixed his hair, smoothed his shirt, and nonchalantly walked out of the room.

A part of Sirius's mind; the part that he had pushed to the back as he grew older; the part that liked to pull pranks and trip people when they walked knew what was coming. Sirius did not pass medical school and raise a child on his own by being stupid. Of course he knew what was coming, but the adult part of him disregarded it and underestimated Remus's rather literal personality. And it was the adult part of his brain that contributed to his shock when he walked down the stairs and into the kitchen to find two of his very favourite boys dressed in nothing but an undershirt and their underpants. In Sirius's defense, he had expected Remus to pay a little more regard to Sirius's speech about freedom rather than his one liner on how men walked around the house in their knickers.

Typical.

To Sirius's credit, he seemed almost impassive compared to the spluttering fit that Mrs. Poppins seemed to be having. 'Master Remus and Master Harry, you will march yourselves upstairs this very minute and put some decent clothes on! I command it!'

Remus did not budge and continued to eat his pancakes, pouring a large serving of chocolate syrup on top. 'Mrs. Poppins, I am denouncing you oppression over my testosterone,' he replied calmly and Sirius could tell by the way Mrs. Poppins turned her head to glare at him, that she knew these were words quoted out of Sirius's mouth and not Remus's. Clearly, Remus did not share the same sinking feeling of dread as he continued, 'I am simply being a man.'

Mrs. Poppins looked close to having a heart attack.

'I have loosened the caps of all your jars for your convenience, but could not find any bulbs to fix. They seem in working condition for now.' Remus smiled sweetly and Sirius wondered if the man was really as oblivious as he made himself out to be. Sometimes, Sirius thought that Remus did these things on purpose; just be a mischievous twat. 'The bathroom sink, though, might require your immediate attention.'

'I missed,' Harry plugged in helpfully, still mid-chew, and displaying an unattractive mouthful of sticky pancakes.

It was a ploy, Sirius knew. His Godson and Remus had joined forces to make Sirius look so horribly bad and irresponsible in front of others to a point that it would simply suffice to have the earth swallow him whole. In Mrs. Poppins eyes, Sirius now looked like the Godfather who never taught his Godson to not talk with his mouthful. Sirius also looked like the kind of person who encouraged peeing in the sink, which Sirius did not. Sirius had come from a well-bred family of Blacks and the only time he had condoned taking a leak outside the toilet was just before he had run away from home, wherein he had taken a piss over his mother's Three Million Pound self-portrait just to spite her. Much had changed since then. Sirius was a responsible parent, a well-respected member of society, and a good friend. Then why was it that Mrs. Poppins accusatory glares were directed towards him alone? Why was it so easy to assume that Sirius had asked these two daft idiots to eat breakfast in only their underwear? Clearly, this was all Remus's doing.

Sirius refused to take responsibility for any of this. 'Harry, come, we need to get you ready for school.' He looked towards Remus as he waited for Harry to take his hand. 'Remus, will you be free at six?' Little fingers closed around his larger ones, and Sirius could not help but notice a lovely wet stain on the front of Harry's underpants.  _Spiffing._  'Mrs. Weasley has volunteered to take care of Harry until eight, so we should have enough time together.'

'Master Black, this is the most inappropriate time to be asking Master Remus out on a date!' Mrs. Poppins scolded shrilly, her hands going to her hips.

'You're asking me on a date?' Remus asked, his eyes lighting up and fingers tightening around his fork.

'I am not asking him on a date!' Sirius all but screamed, his face going red. 'There's a treatment I want to try…well, not a treatment…just something that might help,' he mumbled the last part, shuffling his feet awkwardly much like Harry did.  _Ah,_ Sirius suddenly realised exactly where Harry got his habits from.

'Master Black, if I may say so,' Mrs. Poppins raged on, spittle of indignation flying from her lips. 'But your definition of  _help_ is very far from what is considered normal.' Her hand swept over Remus, clearly indicating his lack of proper attire and the rather obscene way his boxers had ridden up to the crease of his very pretty pale thighs. Perhaps Mrs. Poppins was not showing the latter; perhaps it was only Sirius's eye that caught it. 'If this experiment involves any nudity, burning or destruction of premises, or any form of bodily harm, then I shall immediately decline on behalf of Master Remus.'

'But I want to go on a date with Sirius,' Remus protested, turning towards Mrs. Poppins and widening his eyes in a way that Sirius knew all too well to be a product of time spent with Harry.

Sirius rubbed his forehead tiredly. Why was the simplest thing such a colossal effort with Remus Lupin, he wondered.

'Master Remus, with the utmost respect, but I feel that years of celibacy has left Master Black with nothing but fluff and frustration for brains. I would advise against going on this  _date.'_

'Padfoot,' Harry jumped and pulled at Sirius's trousers, getting sticky syrupy handprints all over him. 'can I also go on your date?'

'This isn't a date!' Sirius growled, his nostrils flaring. 'Never mind what it is!' He picked up his Godson by the waist, making sure to keep the child's sticky hands as far away from his coat as possible. 'Harry, you may not come. Neither can you, Mrs. Poppins.' He commanded when Mrs. Poppins opened her mouth to obviously mouth him off a bit more. 'Remus, you will meet me at the clinic at six and we'll take it from there.' Saying his piece, he stormed off towards the front door, to make a grand exit (stomping his feet for effect), before realising he still had a semi-naked child tucked under his arm and storming back in without a single glance towards the kitchen.

* * *

Remus stared at the door in front of him apprehensively.

 **Trick** [trik]:  **a crafty or underhanded device, maneuver, stratagem, or the like, intended to deceive or** **cheat.**

Sirius had deceived him. He had promised Remus that they would spend a day together and  _experiment_. Sirius knew Remus's weaknesses. Sirius knew Remus was afraid of doors; he knew that Remus did not like going into the Shrieking Shack. Yet, he had addled Remus with the mind boggling feelings that always came when they held hands, and dragged Remus here to face a solid wooden door. The shrieking shack had no doors, except at the main entrance. In his early years of rehabilitation, Remus had either broken all the doors that had once existed or compelled Dumbledore to have them remove after his uncontrolled violent outbursts. Remus did not like doors; and this one was ugly. It was ugly and blank. It had a manual key hole; not the kind that would ever let you go if it decided to trap you in the confines of a room that had no sky.

 **Betrayed** [bih- **trey** ]:  **to reveal or disclose in violation of** **confidence** **.**

'Moony, you trust me, don't you?'

Remus turned towards Sirius to find grey eyes staring intently back at him.

 **Trust** [truhst]:  **a person on one relies on** **.**

Remus nodded, though a little hesitantly

'Then trust me not to hurt you.' His grip tightened on Remus's hand and slowly, almost carefully, he led Remus inside the bedroom. His eyes never left Remus's, even as he slotted a door stopper between the door frame and floor to keep them in still open space.

The room in the Shrieking Shack was nothing like Remus's back home. It had no extravagant furniture, no customised glass roofs, and certainly none of the precise and imaginative art work that Remus poured his heart into on the walls of his home. It was a room that held almost painful memories of frustration and helplessness. A room that had been left bare, with nothing but a bed in the corner that had been kept for the days during his sessions with Dumbledore when the physical and mental strain of healing would knock him out. It was an ugly room.

'I remember when you were trying to reconcile with Harry, you told him that you were scared of being left alone,' Sirius started, sitting down on the floor with his legs crossed and urging Remus to do the same. 'It really got me thinking and I started putting some of the puzzle pieces together when I read your files. You didn't have episodes this severe when your dad was alive, did you?'

Remus shook his head. Sirius's thumb was massaging into his palm.

 **Comfort** [ **kuhm** -fert]:  **to soothe, console, or** **reassure** **.**

'But you still had them.'

'Yes,' Remus answered truthfully. He fidgeted uncomfortably, casting a nervous glance towards the door as if expecting it to close suddenly and lock them here. He wanted to leave. He wanted to go home. Why had Sirius brought him here? Remus did not understand, he did not like it here; it made him feel edgy and agitated. He wanted to go out.

'Moony,' Sirius shook Remus a little to gain back his attention. 'Listen to me, I need you to understand the cause of your anxiety in order to at least _try_  and overcome it. Moony,' He grabbed Remus by the chin, forcing Remus to look straight at him. Remus did not realise he had been looking anywhere else. 'What you are afraid of is not this door or this room; it is that if it closes, no one will ever come for you and you will be left  _alone_. That's not right,' Sirius shook his head, correcting himself, 'what you're afraid of is that your father will never come for you. And it's worse now than when you were younger because you know your father is dead; that he cannot come for you even if he wanted.'

Remus wanted to look away but Sirius was still holding him still by the chin.

It was uncomfortable.

The truth was uncomfortable.

Sometimes Remus pretended that the truth was something else so he would feel comfortable again.

 **Denial** [dih- **nahy** - _uh_ l]:  **refusal to recognize or** **acknowledge** **.**

'Oi, I told you not to make that face in front of me,' Sirius chided gently. Remus wished he could correct it, but he did not understand what face he was making. 'Look, there is nothing wrong with feeling what you feel right now. This isn't your fault,' he explained gently, thumbs that were digging into Remus's jaw now running across it. 'It's associative behaviour; it's normal. It's how Harry turns to me when he's hungry or how he turns to you when he wants a new toy. He associates each of us with certain behaviour because his psych interconnects end results with the people around him. Do you understand?'

Remus shook his head.

Harry did not turn into a monster like Remus did. Harry was different.

Sirius sighed. 'For most of your life, your father was the only person you knew. He was your provider; he gave you food, water, affection – everything you needed both as a child and as a human being. But he only gave them to you when he opened your bedroom door. You associated survival with that bedroom door.' He bit his lip, as if struggling to explain things better to Remus. 'I went through all your files, every single session you had with your psychiatrist and Dumbledore, but it just didn't make sense. Well, it did, but it just  _didn't_. And then I remembered that one time I saw your father.'

Remus's eyes widened. 'You met my father?'

Sirius nodded. 'A long time ago; he had come to my school for a lecture. He was very highly regarded in the medical world, you know. Some of this research papers are still considered breakthroughs in cardiology and surgery to date.'

 **Proud** [proud]: **feeling pleasure or satisfaction over something regarded as highly honorable** **.**

'But the one thing that struck me from that day was how much of a hurry he was in. Everyone kept telling me how elusive he was and how difficult it was to even get a hold of him. And he rushed through the presentation, checked his watch restlessly every five minutes, and when it was time to leave, he ran. He did not stop to speak to our Dean or any of the students; he ran.'

'To me?' Remus asked, his chest hurting. He rubbed the left side of his chest to quell the pain but it did not leave, only climbed up to his throat and made it difficult to swallow.

'To you,' Sirius confirmed. 'I have a feeling he knew…about your problem, I mean. Or at least predicted it because on the day he…' Sirius hesitated, '…passed away, he set you free. I kept thinking of the irony; a heart surgeon dying of a heart attack, especially since he knew he was having problems. He could have called for emergency that time, but calling the hospital would mean he would be  _in_  the hospital for days, maybe a month. It would also mean leaving you trapped inside that room for as long as he was in the hospital…' He smiled almost sadly. 'You were right the entire time; he gave his life to open that door for you.'

It hurt. It hurt very much. The pain had spread to Remus's teeth and his joints, making his knuckles curl into tight fists, where his nails dug into the palms of his hands. Suddenly, Remus wanted to see his father very much. It never hurt when his father was here. Even when Remus had the slightest of wounds, John Lupin would tend to it carefully and whisper magic words under his breath that would make the pain go away. Remus  _missed_ his father.

'We're going to try and dissociate the two,' Sirius continued softly. His hands slipped away from Remus's face and fell to his lap. 'I don't know if I can get rid of it given how long this has been going on for, but I can at least try to re-route it.' He smiled and Remus watched apprehensively as Sirius got up and walked towards the door. He had left Remus still sitting on floor. 'I need you to trust me, Moony. I need you trust me inherently for this to work. If you stay afraid forever, you will only build higher walls to trap yourself.' Sirius's hands and feet shuffled almost nervously and Remus found it hard to read Sirius's body movements. A dread was slowly filling his gut but he did not understand why. 'Moony, I need you to trust me to always be there for you.' Remus's eyes flitted from the door to Sirius to around the room, trying to remember if there had been a window in here. He was suddenly feeling very caged. 'If you're ever in trouble or if you ever find yourself trapped, I need you to believe that I will always come to get you no matter what.'

Remus's eyes followed Sirius's left foot as it moved towards the stopper, the toe of his shoes slowly pulling it out from underneath the door. He watched as the door moved on its own in an ominous arch, a resounding click as it slotted shut. He watched as Sirius pulled out a key from his pocket and turned it effortlessly. Remus only vaguely remembered getting up and running towards the door in a last desperate attempt to escape. He remembered a soft apology whispered into his ears as a strong pair of arms held him back:  _'I'm sorry, Moony'_.

Then, everything went black.

 **Trapped** [trapd] **:** **to** **ensnare** **by** **trickery** **.**

'Fuck…'

Remus opened his eyes only to find that they were already open. He was laid flat on the floor, his back sore for reasons he couldn't quite comprehend at this point. He pushed himself up with both hands, vision swimming from disorientation. He blinked rapidly, trying to dislodge some of the blurriness that was clinging to his eyelashes. A groan slipped from his mouth and when it echoed in a voice that was definitely not his own, Remus found his vision clearing from shock. Sirius was sat in front of him, his back leaning against the open door. He was nursing a large wound on his arm, his breath coming out in harsh pants. As soon as he noticed Remus was up, he hid his arm away from view and shot a pained smile.

'How are you feeling?' Sirius asked, quickly getting up and making his way towards Remus. 'You shouldn't be hurt anywhere, but I was afraid you might make your bad hand worse.' He helped Remus stand up, fussing over the cast on his left hand. He was avoiding looking at Remus's eyes, even though Remus tried very hard to look. Sirius even kept his face bent low so that his hair shielded his face in a way Remus did not like at all. 'You must be exhausted, too,' Sirius muttered, now brushing imaginary dust off of Remus's clothes. 'I was a little hard on you, but we will definitely made progress. Even if just by a few seconds, there will definitely be a gradual delay in panic towards the end. Do you remember anything?'

Remus tried to look under Sirius's hair, moving his head side to side in effort when Sirius seemed to keep turning away.

 **Avoidance** [ _uh_ - **void** -ns]:  **the act of** **avoiding** **or keeping away** **from.**

'I don't remember anything,' Remus replied, feeling rather upset at being partially ignored.

Sirius hummed, 'I suppose the intervals between each aren't long enough to gain full conscious. But at least you didn't get hurt…'

Remus finally caught sight of Sirius's right eye through the part of his hair and found himself reeling in surprise. Involuntarily, his good hand moved up to touch Sirius's face, fingers curling in apprehension when Sirius pulled back as if in fright. 'Your eye…' Remus started slowly, still trying fit the pieces of the puzzle together with things he could remember. 'Did I hurt you?' He asked tentatively, afraid of the answer. The pain in his chest was back again, worse than before. He looked down at his hand, his stomach churning unpleasantly when he noticed split skin on his knuckles.

'Don't be ridiculous,' Sirius laughed but it did not sound like his normal laughter. It sounded fake. 'You hit like a little girl; you couldn't hurt a fly with moves like that.' Again, that unattractive laugh. Remus did not like it at all. 'Hey, don't look so upset. You didn't hurt me, I promise. Look,' Sirius lifted his head, pushing his hair behind his ears and revealing a fresh purpling bruise near his left eye and a deep scratch where neck met shoulder. 'I knew what I was getting myself into from the very start and I should have been a bit better prepared. Next time…'

 **Dangerous** [ **deyn** -jer- _uh_ s,  **deynj** -r _uh_ s] **:** **able or likely to cause physical** **injury** **.**

'I do not want a next time,' Remus interrupted abruptly. He was surprised by the own tone of his voice which sounded harsh even to his ears. 'I do not want a next time. I will not go if you ask. I will refuse because I do not want to hurt you.' He felt angry. Remus had never felt angry before. He had read much about it and it had sounded quite horrible; an expression of extreme displeasure. He felt an irrational urge to push Sirius, to scream, even though Remus never ever did things such as this. He wanted to hit Sirius; yet, that did not make sense because he did not want Sirius hurt. He felt afraid also; afraid that he was out of control and Sirius would be hurt again. He felt terrified of even the thought of Sirius being hurt. It was so irrational and so out of place that Remus found he could no longer categorise everything he was feeling.

 **Overwhelmed** [oh-ver- **hwelm** , - **welm** ]:  **to overpower or** **overcome in mind and feeling** **.**

'Remus, Moony,' Sirius's hands scrabbled to hold Remus still by the shoulders, 'I can do this. I can help, I know I can. These are just scrapes; I'll be more careful next time, I promise.' He kissed Remus on the lips, chaste and swift. 'I can do this but I need you to believe in me.' Remus could not find himself to express any belief when he was staring at Sirius's bloodied hand. 'I can help you,' he pleaded again to Remus, his hands moving from Remus's shoulder to his neck, then tangling his fingers into the back of Remus's hair. 'I can do this,' Sirius repeated, stepping closer so that their faces were only millimeters apart. His breath was shaky against Remus's skin. 'Trust me…'

 **Faith** [feyth]: **confidence or trust in a** **person** **.**

* * *

'Well, what do you think?'

'I'm hungry!' Harry complained. 'Why couldn't we have eaten at that restaurant, Padfoot?'

'We only went there to book seats, Harry,' Sirius replied exasperatedly.

'Are they seats for a movie? Let's go watch! I'm bored!' Ron complained.

Sirius turned to the two boys standing beside him and frowned. 'Do you want that ice cream or not?' he asked, arms crossing over his chest in a way he knew exuded parental superiority.

Harry and Ron nodded eagerly.

'Then concentrate!' Sirius commanded, pointing towards the display. 'Which one do you like?'

Obediently, both Harry and Ron pressed their faces against the glass. Two pairs of large green and brown eyes stared at the impressive collection that the shop had to offer with as much thought and interest that Sirius paid to women. In short: none at all. Though, Sirius had to admit they were trying very hard; discussing amongst themselves, pointing haphazardly to a few, and nodding as if in full understanding of the situation. The shop keeper was already giving the three of them dirty looks as the children's hands left dirty handprints all over his pristine glass.

'Scabbers says he likes the red one,' Ron Weasley finally declared to Sirius, petting his pet rat in his pocket. The little rat poked his head out, sniffing curiously before Ron pushed it in under the shop keeper's stern glare. Sirius  _hated_  rats.

'Not everything has to match your hair, Weasley,' Sirius grimaced, trying not to look directly at Ron who was dressed in a bright orange t-shirt and red shorts. Sirius would not be surprised if the boy hadn't already caused epileptic seizures on their way here.

'I like the one with the butterflies!' Harry piped up. He looked past Sirius at the shopkeeper. 'Don't you have any with cars?'

Sirius groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. He really needed to get more friends his age.

'Harry, do you think Hermione would like this?' Ron asked nervously, his feet shuffling around. 'She likes shiny things, doesn't she? She always wears things like this to school. It makes her look pretty.'

Sirius did not even bother looking. In fact, he was starting to give up. He should have known from the very beginning that he was hopeless at thoughtful gestures and relationships. He should have just stuck to what he did best: being an utter arsehole. Sirius could already hear the shop keeper losing patience with them, huffing and muttering under his breath.

'Why would you give it to Hermione?' Harry asked, scratching his bum despite Sirius having taught him not to do so in public.  _Please don't sniff,_ Sirius pleaded but to no avail. Harry sniffed…twice.

'Maybe she will play with me then?' Ron replied hopefully. 'She only ever likes playing with you,' he went on sadly. 'Maybe she will sleep next to me during naptime as well!' He did not notice Sirius raise an eyebrow or mutter,  _too young for third base,_ under his breath. 'Mister!' Ron waved at the rather disgruntled shopkeeper. 'Hey, Mister, how much is this?'

'For you,  _Sir,_ ' The shop keeper sneered, wiping spittle from where Ron and Harry had drooled a little bit, 'it will be only two thousand pounds.'

It was only then that Sirius truly noticed exactly what Ron seemed so keen over. Rather than worrying over the decision, it seemed it had come to him not so quickly in the form of a five year old's rather unrequited love. The apocalypse might be coming, he decided, for a Weasley to actually display such good taste. An imitation of his Godson, he also pressed his hands against the display, looking closely at what would never be Hermione's gift. It really was rather stunning and thankfully, did not have any butterflies or cars on it. In fact, Sirius would almost call it perfect.

'How about I give you two pounds instead?' Ron bargained intelligently.

Afterwards, when Sirius had bought the boys their ice cream, he decided to stop by the cemetery. There was only one beside the church, where rows of white tombstones stood, all engraved with messages that would never be read by the people who it had been meant for. Sirius did not like graveyards; even ones as beautiful as this one where the grass was a bright green and rosebushes and marigolds surrounded the perimeter. It reminded him of James and Lily who he had not visited since they had moved out of London.

'Padfoot, where are we?' Harry asked, licking ice cream off of his elbow. Already, both boys had managed to stain the front of their shirts with drips of chocolate.

'This is where Moony's dad lives,' Sirius explained with a kind smile.

'Moony said his dad lives in the sky,' Harry argued wisely.

'He does,' Sirius agreed, not wanting to damage Harry's beliefs. 'But sometimes, when you want to talk to him or anyone else who lives in the sky, you come here.' He patted Harry on the head, tucking the boy's unruly black hair behind his ears. 'They come down here sometimes just to listen to us and let us know that they're always here for us.'

Harry nodded, though Sirius was sure he hadn't really understood. He was too young, Sirius knew; too young to understand death or the loss it brought about. And while Sirius had not once lied about Harry's true parents, Harry simply did not understand beyond the fact that Sirius was his dad.

'Why don't you and Ron go pick some flowers for Moony over there, while I speak to Moony's dad?' Sirius suggested, once he spotted John Lupin's tombstone. 'Don't go too far; stay where I can see you, okay?' He watched both children go, leaving a trail of melted ice cream behind. Once he was sure they were not going to run off anywhere, he kneeled down on the grass and turned towards John Lupin. 'You were a cunt,' he started. 'yet, he comes here every week and leaves you flowers.' Sirius picked at the dried flowers that lay on the ground in front of John's epitaph. 'But then he's also a clingy bastard.' He laughed to himself. 'Nothing justifies what you did, but I think you already knew that, didn't you? You knew that from the very beginning, but you only did something about it at the very end. What an arsehole you were – leaving other people to clean your mess; leaving your son's life to chance…'

Sirius breathed in deeply and closed his eyes, listening to Harry and Ron's childish laughter as they played together. 'You were a cunt,' Sirius repeated much less harshly this time, 'but you were also a good man.' He smiled, a hand reaching out to touch John Lupin's tombstone as one would squeeze another's shoulder for reassurance. 'Thank you for what you did. Thank you for saving him.' Sirius got up, dusting the dirt and grass off his knees. 'It's my turn now.'

* * *

'Fuck,' Sirius panted, the heat of his own breath scorching the flesh of his lips. He buried his face into Remus's neck, pressing his lips to pale, pale skin. His hands moved slowly across Remus's body, savouring each dip and sensuous curve. They were lying face to face, noses touching and bodies so close that Sirius wasn't quite sure where he began and where Remus ended. The clothes on his body chaffed painfully against his overtly sensitive skin, but he had been too desperate to bother taking them off. So, so desperate that he had backed Remus up to the wall the minute they'd put Harry to bed and kissed Remus with everything he had. They had not parted once all the way to the bedroom.

'Ah,' Sirius moaned as Remus put just the right amount of pressure on his cock, pulling upwards at the same time. One of Sirius's hands ran up and down Remus's thigh, encouraging him to move faster, while the other tangled itself in Remus's light brown hair, pulling their lips closer to brush the lightest of touches. 'I'm…' he breathed into Remus's mouth, eyes shutting tightly from the sharp bursts of pleasure that coursed through him.

How, he wondered, as his hips arched and moved in tandem with Remus's hand, did Remus know exactly how to drive him wild? How was it that he knew every single one of Sirius's sensitive spots and how to touch it in just the right way? The deep molten gold eyes that stared back at him so fiercely – did they really belong to the Remus he knew?

'Almost…' Sirius whispered, his tongue darting out to lick a broad stripe across Remus's jaw. He whimpered as Remus's hand sped up, thumb brushing over the tip and then running down the vein on the underside of his cock.

Suddenly, Sirius felt the bed dip behind him and heard the soft rustle of curtains being pulled open, before an added weight joined them on the bed. It took his lust addled mind exactly two minutes before he realised that the added weight was actually a person, and that the person was none other than Harry James Potter. It took Sirius's brain another two seconds to realise that his fly was very much open and his cock was in a situation that no cock should be in the presence of a child. A loud yelp tore out of his throat as his hands scrabbled to push Remus away, pull his fly painfully back up (thanking the heavens that he had been too horny to remove any clothes), will his erection down, and appear casually sleepy rather than painfully aroused all at the same time. It was difficult if not impossible. 'Harry,' he croaked out, turning his head to look at his Godson but keeping his lower body firmly turned the other way. 'Why aren't you in bed?'

'I had a bad dream,' Harry whimpered, sidling closer to Sirius. 'Can I stay with you and Moony?'

Sirius looked at Remus, who had sat up to peer down at both of them. Sirius noticed that Remus's "problem" was not quite as big as his own, and was quickly getting back to normal. 'Dreams are not real,' he told Harry; Sirius figured it was meant to be a kind of reassurance but was not a very good one. 'They are only a manifestation of your thought and worries.'

Harry blinked, understandably lost. 'But it was scary, Moony.' His eyes shone with unshed tears. 'There was a lady screaming very loudly. And lots of green light. I was falling and falling, like that time on the stool. I was really scared!'

Sirius felt his whole body stiffen and his feet turn cold. 'I-' he swallowed, suddenly feeling very thirsty. His tongue felt papery against the roof of his mouth, struggling to even form words that he clearly wanted to say. 'Do you remember anything else?' he asked, feeling a sudden relieved sigh bubble forth when Harry shook his head. 'It was just a dream,' he reassured, not meeting Remus's gaze even though he could clearly see the frown of confusion on other man's face. He bundled up Harry into his arms, close to his chest, and tucked the covers in tightly. Sirius tried to control the shake of his hands as he stroked Harry's hair soothingly. 'It will be all right. I'm here.' He kissed Harry's forehead tenderly. 'Go to sleep.'

Harry did not protest, probably glad for the comfort Sirius was offering. His mind was put to ease in seconds under Sirius's gentle touch. The dream and his worries slipped away from his mind entirely like water; a perk that came with his young age and innocence. Within second, he had snuggled deep into Sirius's shoulder, soft snores permeating the silent air. Sirius did not have the benefit of a sound sleep or peace of mind. His mind was weighed down by the gravity of Harry's words and he tried his best not to fidget restlessly in fear of waking his Godson. For the first time since they met, Sirius wished Remus would talk rather than keep silent. Yet, for all his wishing, Remus said nothing; and at some point, Sirius was sure Remus had fallen asleep just like Harry. But moments later, when he turned to look at the other man, he saw bright amber eyes staring back at him. Unmoving, unflinching – Remus's gaze pierced into his very soul. It made Sirius uncomfortable.

'It wasn't a dream…' Sirius whispered, when he found that he could not take the intensity of Remus's stare anymore and looked away. 'What Harry saw…it was a memory…something he really shouldn't be able to remember and I was honestly hoping he wouldn't.' He played with Harry's unruly, black hair, curling it within his fingers. 'Not for my sake, but for him; because it would be difficult for him if he remembered something so…' Sirius trailed off, unable to find a milder synonym for "traumatic".

Remus still did not speak and Sirius wondered why. Why; a man so awkward and chatty would not say anything when Sirius needed him to the most? Why was Remus silent when Sirius needed him to change the topic by saying something utterly ridiculous that it would have Sirius exasperated and only somehow controlling a bubble of laughter from escaping. Why was Remus quiet when Sirius needed someone to chase away and help forget his fears.

'Harry's parents died in a car accident,' Sirius continued. 'They'd bought the car second hand from a very shady dealer. I hated it the moment they bought it, so did James's parents. The Potters are old money; James could have had any bloody car he wanted, but he wanted to walk the honest path and buy something with his very first pay. God, what an idiot…' Sirius swallowed, holding Harry tighter against him. 'The brakes were faulty. It was a red light, there were pedestrians walking. He did the only thing he could think of, which was to swerve and crash his car into the traffic light.' He let out a shaky breath. 'James died upon collision. Lily was injured but she would have survived if…' Sirius sniffed. '…if the lights hadn't collapsed. That was the green light Harry saw and probably all he could see after Lily had shielded him. He was the only one that survive, not unscathed.' Sirius traced the lightning bolt shaped scar hidden behind Harry's fringe. The skin was raised there and while Harry barely cared for it now, Sirius remembered the wails of pain that echoed within the confines of his small apartment for days after the accident.

Sirius bit into the inside of his cheek, replacing one pain with the other. He had never spoken about the accident to anyone before; he had never really had anyone to share his sorrows with until now. The Potters back then had already been distraught over the loss of their son; so Sirius had kept up a façade of strength and taken responsibility for everything. 'If…if we manage to control your episodes…' he started, feeling his voice break against his will. Why did his throat feel so tight when his chest felt so light? 'If we can control your fears even a little bit…I want us to visit James and Lily together. I want you to meet them…'

Again, Sirius was met with only silence from Remus. Sirius did not understand why, but suddenly he was frightened to look back. Terrified because he realised that he was more vulnerable that he had ever been his entire life. If he turned now, Remus would see Sirius at his weakest. Remus would see Sirius's tears and his crumpled shoulders. Sirius did not believe in being weak; he has always been the support system and the strength for every important person in his life. 'Say something…' he pleaded, when he felt he could not take it anymore. 'Please…'

Thin, wiry arms wrapped around Sirius's torso, aligning themselves perfectly on top of Harry's smaller arms. Sirius felt a soft kiss press into the back of his neck and Remus's whisper of reassurance into his ear, 'It will be all right. I'm here.' A secure warmth pressed against Sirius's back. 'Go to sleep.'

Remus was emulating copying how Sirius had comforted Harry earlier; yet there was earnestness in his touch and tenderness in his voice. Despite it being his own words repeated back to him, Sirius felt comforted by them. Sirius only let his eyes fall shut in slumber, when he realised that the flutter of Remus's eyelashes against the nape of his neck meant that the other man was staying true to his word and keeping awake just for Sirius. To protect him and be there for him. It was silly and so, so like Remus to take words such as 'I'm here' so seriously. Silly and yet so perfectly honest that Sirius felt an old forgotten emotion bubbling within him after many, many years:  **trust.**

* * *

Sirius panted, one hand placed over his rapidly beating heart.

'Ten seconds,' Remus whispered, looking at Sirius with wide, almost surprised eyes. He was sat on the floor at Sirius's feet, his body limp and curving into itself. The door was bumping against the wall in slow staccato beats from the force of Sirius having flung it open a little while back. The key had rattled and fallen from its lock and onto the floor from the force. 'Ten seconds.'

'How did you know?' Sirius breathed shakily, sliding against the wall to rest his back as he sat down. He wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand.

'I remember.'

Sirius's eyes widened. 'You remember? Everything after the door closed?'

Remus shook his head. 'I only remember you counting down. Your voice; I remember hearing it only but I could not…' A shaky hand ran through light brown hair, and Sirius noted the deep indents in Remus's palm where blunt nails had dug in from fear. '…I could not stop. Something was in my mind…clouding my thoughts. I couldn't see you, even though I wanted to…' Remus finished, resting his head against his bent knees.

Sirius swallowed. 'Progress,' he assured. His bent knees stretched open to brush his feet against Remus's. 'That's huge progress, Moony. Do you know what this means?' When Remus shook his head, Sirius explained further, a slow forming bubble of pride rising in his chest. 'This means you retained enough conscious to delay your reaction time by ten seconds. Even if for a little while, you were able to hold back your fear.' Sirius laughed in relief; he was honestly starting to give up after two weeks of the same routine with no results. Sirius was not a psychiatrist; nor a professional in patient behaviour or phobia. It made it even more painful to watch Remus's face transform into something unrecognisable and know that he was the cause for it. 'This is brilliant actually!'

Remus looked down at their touching feet. He did not seem as thrilled as Sirius.

'What's wrong? Aren't you happy?'

Remus shook his head. 'No.'

Sirius crawled closer so that they were sitting face to face, knees touching. 'Why not?'

'It takes one hour and ten minutes to travel to London, which is sixty seven point five eight kilometers away from Lewes. Ten seconds will only get me point one four one kilometers.' He looked at Sirius, his eyes looking genuinely worried. 'Assuming that the train will stop at every ten second interval for me, it will take us approximately six hours and forty five minutes to get to London. I cannot meet James and Lily under conditions produced by a ten second progress.'

Sirius blinked, flabbergasted, before he burst out laughing. 'I need you to tutor Harry in Mathematics when he's older.' An unattractive snort escaped Sirius's lips from laughing too hard. 'Remus,' he started, putting his hands on each of Remus's shoulders. 'If you are smart enough to figure all this out, then you must have realised that there are many other ways to get to London other than by train or aeroplane. I could rent that bike again, couldn't I?' Remus blinked as he came to the realisation that Sirius was very much right. 'You didn't have any problems with that, did you?' When Remus shook his head, Sirius chuckled. 'But you're right; let's keep meeting them as your motivation to do well. I won't take you until we've mastered this.'

Remus nodded slowly. 'I will work hard,' he reassured, eyes a shade of fierce brown.

Sirius kissed Remus's forehead sweetly. 'I know you will.' A kiss on the tip of Remus's nose. 'And when the time comes, both Harry and I will hold your hand.' Sirius held both of Remus's hands in his as he leaned into Remus's lips.

He kissed the other man slowly, taking his time to explore the warm caverns of Remus's mouth. They barely got any privacy with Harry and Mrs. Poppins busy bodying around the house. It did not help that Remus's bedroom did not have a door and was open to anyone walking in; Sirius had been suffering from severe performance issues ever since Harry had decided to climb into bed with them mid coital. His paranoid mind could not help but conjure imaginary sounds of footfalls. If he were to be completely truthful with himself, a large part of the reason he was going through with this exercise with Remus was so he could install a door to their bedroom and finally fuck Remus in peace.  _Sorry, Jamie-boy._ It seemed that Sirius's former insatiable self had returned in far more force than earlier expected.

'Let's just check on Harry before we go home, okay?' Sirius breathed into Remus's mouth after they'd parted. 'Just for a little while; he's never stayed away from me before,' he went on between drawn out kisses to Remus's face and lips. Hot breath fanned against Sirius's face with each kiss; Sirius loved these moments when the only words out of Remus's tongue were unintelligible moans. 'Especially not overnight; he might be scared.' He pulled Remus into his lap, wrapping both arms around him tightly and pulling him in so that they were chest to chest. 'Once that's done, we have the whole house to ourselves.' He smiled lasciviously, licking a stripe up Remus's neck.

'What use will be the whole house to us?' Remus asked, ever logical, even when his erection was pressing against Sirius's hip.

'Oh, I'll make sure it will be of full use,' Sirius assured, before pulling him in for another kiss.

An hour later, after Sirius had given Remus a thorough prelude of what he had planned for the night, they found themselves on the front step of Molly Weasley's house. The house was old and worn in, falling apart in many areas. There were bicycles lying in disarray on the front lawn, a broken swing, a Ford Anglia that had been taken apart for a project and then forgotten about, and a kiddy pool that had lost all its wind. There were also various knickknacks in odd corners of the house that were all clearly a result of Arthur Weasley, Molly's husband's obsession for trinkets and gadgetry. Sirius would have never permitted such disarray in his own house; he had had many experiences in the ER where Harry had swallowed coins, paper clips, and on one occasion, a toy car. His paternal instincts fired up as he eyed the front yard mess with apprehension. He hoped Harry was past the age of swallowing random objects.

'Evening, Sirius,' Molly greeted with a curt nod, as she opened the door for them.

A year had already passed since Sirius had refused Molly's offers of a sleepover for the children. A year since Sirius had vocalised his thoughts and frankly told Molly that he did not feel safe with Harry out of his sight for more than a few hours wherein she had mistook it as him belittling her parental skills. She was as cold as ever to him, her anger not forgotten, even though Sirius had (begrudgingly) agreed to it today in order to get some personal time with Remus. However, her eyes immediately lit up when she caught sight of Remus, who was standing behind Sirius and watching their exchange curiously.

'Well, who is this strapping young man?' Molly asked, her face splitting into a smile as she moved aside to let them in.

'This is Harry's mum, mummy!' Ginny Weasley squeaked from behind her mother. Sirius would have hardly noticed her if not for her signature shock of ginger hair. She was only a year younger than Harry, but ridiculously small and spindly. She hid constantly behind her mother's skirt; the only daughter amongst six very rambunctious sons and therefore always out of place. It did not help that she was shy and very quiet most days, and also extremely jumpy whenever someone came near her or tried to talk to her, especially Harry. Sirius reckoned she had a bit of a crush on Harry, which was such a pity because Harry saw her as nothing but ' _an icky girl; ew, gross, Padfoot!_ '

'My name is Remus Lupin. Nice to meet you, ma'am,' Remus introduced himself politely, shaking Molly's hand first and then little Ginny's, who blushed brightly at the contact. Sirius wondered where all of Remus's manners had gone when he had met Sirius; their first meeting had not involved any pleasantries whatsoever. Sirius had received a marriage proposal in place of a handshake.

'Remus Lupin?' Molly asked more to herself than either of them.

Sirius could almost see the cogs in her head turning as she registered the familiarity of the name. Of course she knew who Remus was; anyone who had stayed here long enough knew perfectly well who Remus Lupin was. Her eyes widened, signaling recognition and she stared at Remus with eyes that held a mixture of shock and pity. Her eyes darted towards Sirius in question and then to their entwined hands. Sirius could not remember when he'd taken Remus's hand, but did not bother to take it back. His protective nature only made him hold Remus's hand tighter, glaring at Molly Weasley challengingly should she dare say something insensitive. Remus, on the other hand, seemed rather unconcerned.

'Nice to meet you, too, love,' Molly whispered kindly, finally snapping out of her shock under Sirius's piercing glare. 'Why don't you come in? We're just sitting the children down for dinner. The tables are already set in the backyard and Bill and Charlie are at the Greene's, so there's plenty of room for the two of you.'

'No,' Sirius said the same time Remus said, 'yes'.

Sirius scowled at Remus who offered as an explanation, 'I have never been invited to dinner before.'

'I've invited you to dinner tonight,' Sirius growled under his breath, wondering if Remus was really that daft or just plain insensitive. Sirius had wanted to spend the day; just the two of them. It was the sole reason he had broken his paranoia about letting Harry out of his sight for a single second. It was the reason why he had let Harry stay at the Weasley's because if Molly had managed to keep six children alive all these years, she must be doing something right. Though Sirius did have some doubts about the twin's mental health. Last time, Sirius had had to string them by their ankles over the balcony and threaten to drop them if they ever tried to turn his hair pink again.

'Nonsense! You will have dinner with us!' Molly's face broke into a wide smile and Sirius could almost see her over indulgent mothering instincts kick in. She nearly pushed them inside, moving to close the door behind them, when Sirius held her by the wrist. 'Keep it unlocked until we reach the backyard,' he instructed her, even as his eyes checked the room – every window and door – to make sure it provided enough space. He was glad she did not question him, and Sirius vaguely wondered why he seemed a lot more worried about Remus's problems that Remus himself. 'Let the windows stay open as well.' He dug his hands into his pockets, cursing under his breath. 'I'll be using your phone.'

' _May_ I use your phone,' Molly Weasley corrected, looking at Sirius threateningly.

'Sirius does not have a phone, Mrs. Weasley, but you may use mine if you ever choose to visit,' Remus offered kindly, making Sirius snort a little too loud to be considered polite. 'If it is to the school, I would assume it's urgent. They threaten to suspend children; it is quite horrible.'

Sirius broke into a fit of coughs in an attempt to control his laughter. To her credit, Molly Weasley seemed to take Remus's naivety quite well and led him outside to the backyard. Sirius joined them ten minutes later after having cancelling his reservation at the restaurant. He didn't even know why he had bothered; Remus had zero sense of romance. Had Sirius known that Remus would be pleased with Molly's pot roast for dinner and her screaming kids as background music, he would have come here sooner. Sirius shrugged to himself, deciding that at least now he would have a bit more money to put into Harry's college fund. Also, Remus could no longer complain that Sirius had not asked him on a date yet.

'Your melons are very nice, Mrs. Weasley,' Sirius found himself coming to an abrupt halt as he walked in on what was clearly an inappropriate conversation. He saw the twins, Fred and George Weasley, promptly burst out laughing causing poor Molly to turn a bright shade of fuchsia. 'I have tried to get my melons to grow bigger as well, but they have remained disappointingly small,' Remus continued completely oblivious.

'Your melons are fine,' Sirius assured, joining the dinner table between Harry and Remus. 'I like them small anyway.' He smirked as another bout of laughter passed through the table, further confusing poor Remus. Sirius was not lying; from what he had sampled of Remus's melons, he was a little more than content with both their size and taste. In fact, they looked quite appealing right now as the heat of the summer made Remus's sweat damp white oxford cling to his body in all the right places. Sirius tried not to let his eyes wander and focused instead on the lovely smell of pot roast wafting from the centre of the table.

'Why don't we talk about something else?' Arthur Weasley exclaimed, his voice squeaking towards the end. He was steadily turning quite red, probably at Sirius's bad attempt at dirty table talk. 'What do you do, Remus?'

Remus frowned. 'I am sitting,' he replied in an almost condescending tone. 'Your wife has kindly invited me to dinner. I have heard many good things about her cooking from Harry.'

'You are such a charmer, Remus Lupin,' Molly Weasley tittered, serving a large helping of roast and potatoes onto Remus's plate before anyone else even got close to the food. Sirius was salivating so hard that he would soon need a dam to keep it in check. 'Arthur meant to ask what you do professionally; for a living, I mean.'

'I paint.'

'Oh, that is the best news I've had in weeks!' Molly exclaimed, piling on the potatoes even more. Sirius stared at it hungrily, wishing she would let go of the serving spoon already. 'I've been nagging behind Arthur for days now but he's such a procrastinator. As you can see, the back of our house is an absolute mess. We only just had the pipes fixed but they've already done their damage to the walls.' She smiled cheerfully, seating herself between her husband and Remus. 'Maybe if you aren't too busy, you could stop by the house? Not for free of course; how much would you charge normally?'

Remus blinked. 'St. Joseph's paid me eighty thousand pounds.'

Molly Weasley looked like someone had just pronounced her death sentence while Arthur tried to dislodge the potato that had somehow lodged itself in his throat.

Sirius snorted, clarifying to save Molly from having a potential heart attack, 'Remus painted the mural in St. Joseph's.' He watched as both Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's eyes widened with realisation. 'He does book covers and art exhibition contributions as well, if you're interested.' An odd sort of pride swelled in his chest and he tried to hide it with an extra helping of vegetables. Sirius hated broccoli but because of Remus, he now had four pieces of monstrous broccoli lying on his plate. He could only survey them with disdain. 'Hand that to me.' Sirius pulled Remus's plate towards him, unable to take any more of Molly and Arthur's stares, or the twins constant snickering (they were definitely up to something). He distracted himself with cutting Remus's meat into small manageable pieces before sliding the plate back over. He nodded at Remus's mumbled thank you.

From beside Remus, Molly and Ginny Weasley giggled. Mr. Weasley snorted, and Harry and Ron, not wanting to be left out, also joined in.

'What?' Sirius growled, when their giggling only grew louder.

'Nothing,' Mrs. Weasley replied, before bursting out into peals of laughter.

Sirius found himself turning bright red in agitation. He did not remember ever meeting anyone with such a chronic case of giggling and Sirius had been to a fair few parties back in the day. Parties that, more often than not, had involved some form of illegal substance. 'Sirius, why are they laughing?' Remus voiced out Sirius's thoughts aloud.

'Hell should I know!' Sirius shot back grouchily, though he knew perfectly well why they were laughing. He noticed Remus too, stared warily at the twins who were now occasionally ducking underneath the table as if up to something. They were also oddly quiet compared to the other times Sirius had met them. It was definitely not paranoia then, Sirius assured himself, if even a man as obtuse as Remus Lupin found the twins suspicious. Just in case, Sirius crossed his legs, hiding the family jewels (the only jewels Sirius was rather grateful for having inherited, bless his arsehole of a father)

'It's cute,' Molly managed to say between chuckles. 'Very romantic…'

'His hand is broken!' Sirius shot back in his defense, his hands pointing exaggeratedly towards Remus's cast.

This only made everyone laugh harder and Remus look like someone had asked him to recite the first forty two digits of Pi. Though, Sirius reckoned Remus would probably be able to answer the digits of Pi seamlessly. Remus probably understood Pi better than the current conversation also.

'It's lovely to see you like this, Sirius,' Molly finally said after things had calmed down a bit and Sirius's face finally stopped feeling like an inferno. 'You're usually very…' she waved her hand as she searched for the right word, 'hostile towards anyone other than Harry.' Sirius hardly thought being practical could be called hostile. If he did not  _need_  to be nice to other people, he did not have to. 'Thank you, Remus, for breaking the impenetrable walls of Black. More mash, Arthur?'

'Moony does not break walls; he only paints them!' Harry pointed out chirpily, earning a nod from Ron.

'Mum, Moony lets Harry paint the walls,' Ron whined, 'why can't I also?'

'If you can find someone who pays you eighty thousand pounds for it, I'll let you scribble on every single wall in this house, Ron,' Molly chastised strictly, 'but until then, you will be grounded if I so much as see a crayon in your hands. It is enough that I'm allowing you to keep that horrible rat your brother got you! Am I understood?' She only piped down her glare when Ron looked away disagreeably, grumbling under his breath about how his pet wasn't even allowed to eat with them. She turned her sweet smile back towards them. 'Sirius, you never told me how you got that bruise on your face, though I imagine it was well deserved.'

Sirius felt Remus stiffen beside him. Damn Molly and her intrusive questions; Sirius had barely managed to rid Remus of the guilt of hurting him with every session they went through. Luckily, his Godson always had a smart mouthed answer, 'Sirius was battling Death Eaters, Mrs. Weasley!' Harry offered as an explanation. 'They're bad men who wear white masks and have skulls on their arms!' It was the story Sirius had told Harry, shamelessly borrowing the characters off of Remus's most recent book.

'Are Death Eaters real, mummy?' Little Ginny Weasley asked in a small voice. Sirius had almost forgotten she was there. The poor tot looked terrified.

'They're real,' Remus answered before anyone else could. 'But good people fight against them and should never be afraid. If you stay afraid forever, you only build higher walls to trap yourself,' he recited back Sirius's words of wisdom.

Molly was clearly impressed. 'Such wise words,' she fluttered, her eyes almost teary. She turned towards Sirius, asking the most sincere and blunt question he had ever heard out of her mouth (and he had heard many), 'oh, Sirius, how did a wanker like you manage to find such a sweet, sweet man?' She said it in such a dreamy state of mind that she barely noticed Arthur Weasley covering both Harry and Ron's ears at the "w" word.

'Right,' Sirius slammed his hands against the table as he stood up abruptly, 'if you're done, Moony, we should probably be leaving.' He made a show of looking at the watch but was really glaring murderously at Molly Weasley. 'I think we've made sure Harry is marginally safe, though that would be subject to question. We should- is Ginny all right? She looks-'

Everything after that happened so quickly that Sirius was barely able to finish his sentence. He had only just noticed little Ginny Weasley's unusually pale and frightened face. The cause had been a rather large, but obviously plastic spider that sat atop her lap. But it had not been her who had caused the ruckus, but Ronald Weasley who had noticed the spider after Sirius (quite brilliantly) pointed it out, decided to scream like a fat lady at an opera, and climb on top of the table whilst kicking haphazardly. Platters of food flew everywhere, some clattering to the ground at their feet. It was when everyone stood up to avoid staining their trousers did they realise that they shoe laces had all been tied to the person's next to them, causing all of them to over balance and fall into one large semi-circular heap. Seconds later, there was a sound of a missile going off – one, two, three, four – and Sirius only had to look up to realise that the Weasley twins had set off a nice range of coloured fireworks. The kind that didn't have much of a spark but made up for it by showering everyone in its path with coloured dust and glitter. Sirius understood glitter. He had been covered in glitter before in much worse states of dress than he currently was in. The glitter was not the reason why Sirius screamed so shrilly that he could put Ginny Weasley to shame. It was that damn rat!

Sirius  _hated_ rats!

It was running up his leg; Sirius could feel every step of its disgusting furry little legs as he struggled to get up, his hands slipping and sliding beneath him. It sniffed at his crotch and Sirius had never felt so violated his entire life. 'Argh,' Sirius half screamed of relief as Molly Weasley saved him from further sexual abuse by whacking it out of the way with a balled up apron. Sirius dropped back on the ground in relief, his hair mussed up in front of his eyes as he let it fall to the side. He could see poor Arthur Weasley struggling to disentangle Ron and Ginny crying in a corner, frightened by the commotion. He could see two identical pairs of running feet, followed by mischievous laughter. Beside him, lay two very familiar, abandoned pair of shoes. Sirius looked to his lower right, sure enough spotting Remus and Harry taking refuge under the table as they watched the sky with large smiles on their faces. Both were covered in gold glitter, their eyes reflecting the short bursts of light from each firework set off. How typical of the two of them to crawl to safety while Sirius lay flat on his back, getting molested by rats. Sirius looked to his left to survey the damage.

'Fred! George! The two of you, out right now!' Molly Weasley yelled, her face purpling. The balled up apron in her hands snapped open like a whip and then recoiled back into her hands. Sirius had never thought he would consider a cooking apron a deadly weapon until today. Inwardly, he shuddered.

And then he noticed  _it._

Lying innocently on the floor, unnoticed and untouched.

Sirius's eyes widened and his hands frantically searched his front and back pockets.  _Empty._ He looked back at it disbelievingly, before his brain caught up with the implication of empty pockets and set his reflexes to work. He rolled over to his side and up on his knees, crawling towards it while dodging Molly Weasley's block heels threatening to trample on his hands. His right hand stretched outwards, fingers brushing the surface. Sirius almost had it, before the twins decided to run right into it and kick it with their stupid, stupid feet. Their giggling resounded like an ominous echo in Sirius's ears as he watched it fly up in a perfectly circular arc, past Arthur's head and right in front of Scabbers who had been cowering in the corner thus far in fear of Molly Weasley's wrath.

'NO!' Sirius screamed, already knowing it was too late as Scabbers approached it, sniffed, decided in his tiny little brain that it was food and swallowed. Something in Sirius's brain exploded at that very moment; he was sure of it.

_Fuck._

* * *

'Is Scabbers going to die, mummy?'

'I bloody well hope so,' Sirius grouched, arms crossed in front of his chest. For once, Molly Weasley did not chastise him for being an insensitive arsehole. Probably because she hated that rat as much as Sirius did and only let Ron keep it to keep him busy long enough to have some quiet in the house. The little red light indicating an operation in progress flickered; the rat had been rushed to ICU after Sirius had grabbed it by its little neck and tried to strangle it, causing it to choke. In Sirius's defense, the rat was choking anyway because it had decided to swallow what was clearly  _not_ food.

'Scabbers won't die, will he, mummy? Will he?' Ron cried again.

'He won't die, Ron,' one of the twins muttered reassuringly. Sirius could not tell which one it was; he doubted even Molly could. They were sitting as far as possible from Sirius, who in his anger, had tripped them four times, caused them to walk into doors seven times, electrocuted them with his bare fingers every time they even tried to come close, and had also managed to give them lovely chocolate stains on the bum of their trousers. Sirius Black might be an old bastard, but pranks and vengeance to him was like riding a bicycle. He  _never_ forgot and he  _never_ forgave. The twins hadn't even experienced the tip of the ice berg. Poor Arthur was too kind to them and that was exactly the reason why he was stuck at home cleaning up after them and taking care of Ginny.

It also did not help that Harry had chosen this very exact time to have jealousy issues. For some reason, Ron had decided that Remus would be the right person to turn to for comfort in his grief. He had not once sought his mother, probably because of her less than favourable attitude towards the rat. The twins had been the cause of the entire ruckus and Sirius was about as mothering as a tarantula that sometimes ate their own young. Remus, also not the epitome of parenthood was holding Ron not dissimilar to a potato sack, with an arm around the child's waist leaving hands and feet to dangle, as Ron bawled on. Harry, it seemed, could not tolerate Remus holding anybody else and had decided to dangle from Remus's right leg, while glaring crossly at Ron. Harry had wanted to dangle from Remus's other arm but Sirius had stopped him, after explaining for fifteen minutes that casts were not tree branches. Sirius had also offered his own arm but Harry had adamantly informed Sirius that Ron was stupid and Ron would never take away Remus.

'He will not die, Ronald,' Remus also reassured, patting Ron's head awkwardly with the same hand that was trying to hold him up. Sirius could see Harry's envy shooting through the roof by the way his face purpled. 'There have been very few recorded incidents of rats dying by swallowing unknown objects. Statistically, he is more likely to die from fire, poison, or installation of fake body parts.'

Sirius raised an eyebrow. 'Fake body parts?'

Remus nodded. 'Like a silver arm.'

'A rat with a silver arm?' Sirius asked slowly, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

'In the next book, there will be a rat with a silver arm,' Remus replied mysteriously and then said no more. Remus had been writing furiously these past few weeks; Mrs. Poppins had claimed that Remus had finally found his muse while pointedly looking at Sirius. She also advised Sirius to remember that Remus wrote books for an impressionably younger crowd and to keep his muse-ness to a strictly PG level.

Well, she did not have to worry about his explicit muse-ness tonight, by the look of things.

Sirius sighed heavily and rubbed his face roughly with both hands.

'What did Scabbers swallow, Padfoot?' Harry mumbled between a mouthful of his finger. He was sucking on it viciously now as he always did when he was agitated. Clearly, the jealousy was not boding well with Harry.

'My bank account,' Sirius answered back grumpily. He could not help his sour mood. Things had not been going right all evening, from the minute Remus had agreed to dinner at the Weasley's. Sirius could have been in bed right about now; either sleeping peacefully or having sex with Remus, depending on his stamina. Yet, it was already midnight and he was doing none of those things. He was standing in the waiting room, outside the Veterinary ICU as a  _rat_  got operated on. He was also still covered in glitter and green and blue dust. Sirius did not think this night could get any worse.

'Scabbers is alive.'

Sirius could not have been more wrong.

All the Weasleys hurried towards the doctor, Ron wiggling out of Remus's grasp and finally giving Harry's raging jealousy some peace. 'Can we see him, Doctor?' Ron asked, sniffling and wiping his nose on his hand. He leaned into one of his twin brothers who, finally in a sorry show for affection, put an arm around his shoulders. 'I want to see Scabbers.'

'One by one, then,' the doctor agreed with a smile. 'Why don't the boys go first?' He waited until Molly said yes to only Ron and Fred, before asking the nurse to take them inside. 'Oh, sorry, I nearly forgot.' The doctor fiddled in his pockets before holding up his prize with an 'aha!' He handed it over to Molly with an exaggerated wave of hand. 'It seems Scabbers had swallowed something very precious to you, Mrs. Weasley. I would be more careful next time with such things. Rats are wily little things.'

Sirius felt his face flame with embarrassment.

Molly frowned. 'This isn't mine.'

'It's ours!' Harry called out, abandoning Remus's leg and running towards Molly with an outstretched hand. 'We bought it together the other day, didn't we, Padfoot? When you gave us ice cream and then we visited Moony's daddy and played with flowers!' He stomped his feet petulantly when the poor, puzzled doctor did not hand it over to Harry immediately. 'Padfoot said it matched Moony's eyes. See?'

Sirius hid his face in his hands, feeling his ears blow steam as his Godson, determined to embarrass the life out of him, held up the ring for all to see. It  _did_ match Remus's eyes; a perfect amber stone set on a band of platinum. And when it caught the light in just the right way, it glowed gold, like Remus's eyes did in the heights of his orgasm when they were in bed together.

'Oh my,' Molly exclaimed, unable to keep a cheeky smile from creeping into her face.

'Here you go, Moony,' Harry ran back to Moony and slid the ring perfectly into his fourth finger, after realising that it would not fit in any of the others. It looked as perfect as Sirius had envisioned it. 'Happy Birthday, even though it's not your birthday…' Harry trailed off towards the end, a little bit confused. 'Padfoot,' he asked, drawing out the end of Sirius's name in a curious twang, 'why are we giving Moony a gift if it's not his birthday?'

Sirius ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath, trying to avoid the knowing glances from Molly Weasley and the Doctor. He really did not want to do it this way, but it was now or never. He looked up, right into Remus's eyes, grinned weakly, and said the words he never thought he would say: 'Don't suppose you'd like to marry me, eh?'

* * *

_**Once upon a time, there lived an Amber prince who lived in a lonely castle.** _

_**Once upon a time, there lived Black prince who lived with a lonely heart.** _

_**Their once upon a times had soon passed, as they lived happily together forever after.** _

* * *

**THE END**

* * *

 


End file.
